


-The Summer Sun And That Boy's Look- Did Their Work On Me

by EtoileGarden



Category: QT - Fandom, Queen's Thief - Fandom, TAT - Fandom, The Queen's Thief, Thick as Thieves - Fandom
Genre: AU, Angst, Anxiety, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Domestic smut, Family, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Marriage, Meet the Family, Oblivious, Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, abuse mention, divine intervention, everyone can see it, farm boy, gods intervene, idiot plot, obvious, slave mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 19:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11744064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoileGarden/pseuds/EtoileGarden
Summary: This is an AU but not much of an AU - more like cutting a corner of the field rather than walk the long way, even if it means you have to trudge through a little mud and I don’t mind  getting dirty.In which Costis comes to see Kamet before he goes away to the valley.





	-The Summer Sun And That Boy's Look- Did Their Work On Me

I had only been in Attolia for a few days - though it seemed both less and more. The days had stretched abominably as I ducked from meeting to meeting, answering far too many seemingly aimless questions, but by the time I reached my bed in the evening with my throat sore from overuse I felt as if I had only just gotten out of it. The repetition of actions, I suppose, tricking my brain into feeling as if I’d done nothing with my day.

I lay in my master’s bed, under the sheets that I still could not believe were brushing against my skin, and would bide my time until exhaustion took me by contemplating my future. It would be a hopeless task at present to contemplate much of my past, I do not think I had the mental capacity while so overloaded still with the plot twist my life was turning out to be, to think too deeply on the majority of it.  
I thought of the meetings I would go to the following days, of the murals I would get to pass and examine a little more closely. I thought of the names I might take. I had been mulling some over in my head - some only fanciful, taken straight from favourite stories, others less fanciful, but still awkward on my tongue - like Metit, like Morik. I had been Metit for only a short time, and had never answered quickly enough for me to feel any true connection to the name, and every moment of my time as Morik had been a hellish nightmare-scape. The only real reason I even let them onto my very short list was because Costis had given them to me - even if they had only been spur of the moment christenings. 

I missed him. I wanted to run my possible names past him, complain about my day to him, share my astonishment over his majesty the sandal polisher, apologise excessively to him. I hadn’t seen him at all since our audience with the king. I hadn’t even heard mention of him. I considered asking Relius about his whereabouts but… I didn’t want to intrude on Costis’ privacy if he did not want to see me, and also, I liked Relius, but I wasn’t entirely sure how I would phrase my anxiety over Costis’ absence. I felt like I could pass it off, to the casual observer, as nothing of any importance. We had traveled for almost a year together after all, it made sense for me to want to know what had become of him, but. Relius was not a casual observer, Relius was a very highly trained and overly skilled observer who would be able to tell immediately all of my emotions on the subject. Much like the majority of my past, my particular emotions surrounding this were not something I wanted to dwell on for too long, lest they suck me into a vortex of gloom. I would not be very useful to anyone if I was stuck in any vortex.   
Still. I will not even try to pretend that I did not think of him often.

It was my fifth morning of waking up comfortable - I still had a niggling fear that any moment now someone would come along and drag me off to the cells, or throw me onto the streets, or even that I would wake up out of a dream and find myself again in the castle prison, or possibly worse, on my small cot in my office in Ianna Ir.   
My first few days my assigned attendants had attempted to assist me in dressing, but I had made it very clear that I preferred to do the job myself, so they let me be until they could hear me walking about in my shoes before they knocked. They would come in with my breakfast tray, and an exhaustingly long itinerary of the meetings I was invited/inveigled to attend that day. This morning they did not wait until my shoes were on. In fact I was still sitting on the edge of my bed, only my undershirt on, tucked loosely into my breeches. 

It is very odd trying to decipher the right tone I ought to take when admitting people into my chambers. For my master’s guests, I would be haughty for those he considered beneath him, and deferential for those he liked. For my office I think I teetered between stern and polite. Here, in an opulent suite with people attending me - well. If it were anyone else I would expect them to be quite aloof, especially knowing that the knocker was only their attendants, but, I had the curious task of having been beneath them, and in many ways, even beneath the serving boys who brought trays up and emptied my pots. If only because they were free to leave in a way that I had never been.   
What comes out of this whole mess, is that I often sound quite ridiculous when I call out in reply. Thankfully, they are polite and don’t mention it.   
The attendant ducks his head as he steps around my door, issues a quick apology for disturbing me, which I wave away, and then says, “You have a visitor.”   
I think I probably frowned.   
“Oh?” I reached behind me to grab my gown and pulled it over my shoulders, not wanting to host anyone so under-dressed, “who is it?”  
I was most likely expecting it to be Relius.   
Of course, as I am sure shouldn’t have been a surprise, considering the bias in my narrative, it was Costis.   
He stepped around the door as the attendant ducked away again, closing the door behind him with a sharp click.   
He had had his hair cut, the curls were tighter with less weight and sat closer against his scalp, and his chin was freshly shaved, his skin still slightly pink from the razor.  
I had never seen him in his guard uniform before, his ornate breastplate was impossibly clean. I was very familiar with the guard garb, both from my time in Attolia previously, and because I was escorted nearly everywhere I went now, but it was very strange seeing it on him. This isn’t to say that he looked bad in it, quite the contrary, he was probably exactly how the ancient scribes imagined their heroic and handsome guards. But I digress.   
I stood quickly, hands clumsy as I fastened the robe around my waist, unsure even as I did it why I bothered when Costis had seen me in many stages of undress and dishevelment before. He had basically only ever seen me in some stage of dishevelment.   
I waved awkwardly at a chair by the window, facing the desk I had already littered with papers, and Costis crossed the room to sit without speaking. I trailed after him, sat opposite him at my desk, and then immediately stood again to stand by the wall.   
“It’s good to see you,” I said politely, and the hard line of Costis’ shoulders softened as he smiled up at me.   
“I’m sorry I did not reach out to you sooner,” he spoke at last, “I wanted to give you time enough to settle,” his words sounded oddly rehearsed, his face nervous, and I sat down again.   
“I wasn’t sure you would want to see me,” I admitted, watching his face, “I know I treated you poorly.”   
“So,” he said with a dismissive shrug, “I was an idiot, you were an idiot, my king is a conniving tur- genius who played us both like the fools we are-” he pauses as if he’s forgotten his lines, stares very hard at his knees, “I’ve missed you. I don’t care if that makes me more of the idiot.” 

I considered pointing out that it hadn’t even been a week since we last spoke, not that they had been any nice words, but I was not one to talk. 

“I am sure you must have missed your friends here as well,” I demurred, “It must be good to be among them again.” I waved one hand vaguely at his uniform, watched as his hand danced against the metal of his breastplate. His body was all nerves.   
“I have. It is,” he agreed, “although I won’t have much time with them, I am due to leave to the Gede Valley tomorrow morning.” His tone indicated that he was reaching the crux of his narrative, and I stiffened in my chair, caught off guard.   
“You are leaving?” I asked, “So soon?”   
“Yes,” his hands were still twitching, “that is why I am here. I wanted to give you more time, but I couldn’t bear to leave without seeing you again.”   
He is always so earnest, it makes my stomach twist.   
“Oh,” I say, clasp my own hands tightly together, “I am glad you did. I had been wondering where you were,” I add weakly. I wish I had his skill in speaking so honestly.   
“Kamet,” he says, “I miss you.”   
He is repeating himself.   
“Maybe you wouldn’t have to miss me if you weren’t leaving tomorrow,” I reply, perhaps a little waspishly and he closes his eyes as if to stop himself from rolling them at me.   
“I want you to come with me,” he says.   
I am sure I have misheard him, that my hearing is failing me as my eyesight had. I blink at him.  
“Sorry?”   
He shifts forwards on his chair until he is only barely perched on the edge, and then leans out into the gap between us to first rest his hand on my knee, and then to take both my hands, still clasped together.   
“If you miss me as well,” he says, his hand warm and rough against mine, “I would like you to come with me.”  
Now I know I have heard the words correctly but am sure I am misunderstanding them. I stare at my hands in his, “I lied to you,” I remind him, “have lied to you constantly since the day we met, took you for a fool and treated you like one - I - and you are inviting me to visit your home with you?”   
“I cannot make myself blame you for lying to me,” Costis says, voice soft, “if you treated me like a fool, I often deserved it, but you treated me like a friend far more often. I want to take you home with me.”   
I remind myself that Attolian customs are not entirely familiar to me, I cannot say for certain how Attolians, especially country bred Attolians, treat their friends, in fact, I cannot say for certain how many Mede’s treat their friends. I remind myself not to read text that is not in fact there. I lick my lips.   
“I am required to attend far more meetings,” I mumble to our hands, “I cannot leave tomorrow, I’ve promised myself to any number of engagements.”   
Costis nods, does not release my hands.   
“So tell me,” he says, “because I know that you’re telling the truth, but is it simply a convenient excuse to turn me down lightly, or would you like to come with me? I will be away in the Gede for some weeks, I am sure you could join me once you are less busy if you want to.”   
“It’s not an excuse,” I snap, “I’ve already told you that I miss you-”  
I cut myself off, because I hadn’t told him I miss him. I had been too busy being unsure whether or not he was still angry at me for calling him an idiot to find space to say the words. I shut my eyes.   
“I miss you,” I tell him, as if he is not sitting close enough to me so as to be holding my hand.   
When I open my eyes again, he is watching me closely.   
“So,” he says, releases my hands finally, but keeps his palm warm against my leg.  
“So,” I reply, “I will speak with the king and ask how much longer he thinks I will be needed in the capital.”   
Costis looks so happy I could kiss him, try to take some of the happiness for myself. He rubs his thumb against my knee, squeezes my lower thigh. 

I wonder if he asked his king for permission before coming to ask me. I wonder what he has said to his king about me. I had only seen Eugenides a few times since that first night, and only very briefly. There had been no proper time for further questioning. I still wanted to ask why he had sent Costis to collect me in the first place. He would not have been my first choice to send away into a foreign land with high chance of failure. I suppose Eugenides trusted in his and his gods luck a lot more than I could ever fathom doing. The sandal cleaner I had known had also been devoted, albeit somewhat sarcastically to the gods, that much of his personality at least was not a fabrication. 

I realise that I've been staring wordlessly at Costis for some moments now and he is watching my face curiously. 

“What are you thinking?” He asks. 

I suppose I could always just ask him what he had told the king rather than the circuitous route of waiting until I saw the king again myself and attempting to sneak it into casual conversation. 

“I am just thinking that every time I think I have stopped being a fool you prove me wrong again,” I say instead.   
“I do not think you are acting the fool,” he protests, “what makes you say that?”   
I hold my hands up in a shrug, “I was so certain you were avoiding me because you had had enough of me and my complaints, yet here you are asking me to accompany you again in close quarters. I'm not sure sure if this makes you brave or somewhat foolhardy as well.”   
He laughs at me, and then, to my great distress, stands.   
“I have to go on duty, I promised Teleus I would take a squad around before I left him again,” he tells me ruefully. I stand up as well and reach, unthinking, to take him by the arm.   
“When do you get off?” I asked, “even if I can come in a few weeks I won't get to see you after tomorrow. I would like some time to catch up with you...before we are surrounded by your family.”   
He paused, thoughtful.   
“Dinner?” He suggests, “I could come to your rooms and take you out into the town to get some genuine Attolian food - better than castle food and caggi both.” It's a joke but I believe him anyway. I had already grown used to eating such opulent food again, but there was something missing, I think it was likely the companionship I had grown accustomed to.   
“I will be here,” I say, not letting go of his arm, “but you had better not take me anywhere with bar fights. My new clothes are much too nice to get wine stains on them.” He laughs again and I know it is at my vanity, puffed up just to amuse him. I'm glad it had.   
“I wouldn't dream of it,” he assured me, “we'll go somewhere clean, don't worry.” He winks and I ignore my churning stomach and release him. He doesn't step away immediately, rather steps forward again to cup my face just briefly. He looked as if he had more to say, but then shook his head and turned. He waved a hand in farewell at the door, and then was gone. Moments after the door shut it was opened again by my attendant with my  
itinerary for the day. 

In between meetings in the early afternoon, I sat with my gaggle of attendants and guards in a small dining chamber eating a late and light lunch. Few other people were in the room, it was a place specifically designed for those with busy schedules who hadn’t the time to return to their rooms to eat, or to join a more communal meal. I was glad of it, was still not comfortable enough in my role here to attend meetings in which we were served food while we talked. I noticed first the guards stiffen to some approximation of attention, and then my attendants as well, before I noticed the figure approaching my table. It was the king, seemingly arriving out of nowhere and trailed only by one very harried looking attendant. He left the attendant across the room and came to sit down next to me. He sprawled out on the bench, slouching low with his elbows propping him up on the table, and smiled widely up at me.   
“Your Majesty,” I said sarcastically.   
“King-namer,” he replies, just as sarcastically, and I blush a little. “You want to go to the Gede valley?”   
I wondered if Costis had told him, if I was right that he had asked permission before speaking to me, or if the king had acquired this information elsewhere.  
“I have heard that it is quite beautiful at this time of year,” I replied to my soup, “although of course I have no intentions of leaving you until I am no longer needed to provide information for you.”   
“Costis is quite beautiful, yes,” Eugenides said conversationally, then patted my back as I choked a little. “You of course have my permission to go, although I would like to point out that you don’t need my permission to leave. If you would allow me however, I can arrange your travel plans for you.”   
I did need his permission to go, whatever he said. I am sure he would like to believe that I could be a free man, just as much as I would like to believe it, but he and I both knew that at least in some way he held all the power over my actions.   
“So,” I said sharply, dabbing at my lips with a cloth napkin, “I would appreciate that.” If the king arranged my travel plans, I could be certain that the Melheret would not be able to discover them. Although I was equally certain that as long as I made it safely to the Gede valley to Costis, I would be safe with him.   
“It is not a rare opinion to hold, Kamet,” Eugenides said, monopolizing the conversation in a tone which I could only place as mischievous. I raised my eyebrows at him. “I’m sure no one in this room would deny that Costis is indeed very good looking,” he continued, gesturing with his hook at the room, as if expecting everyone to chime in in agreement. Everyone, of course, continued to studiously pretend they were not aware of the king in their midst.   
“Indeed,” I said shortly, pursing my lips and trying to decipher what the Eugenides was hoping on getting out of this exchange.   
“Have you told him that you think so as well?” he asked me innocently.   
“No, do you think if he knew he would retract his offer to host me?” I asked, frowning. I do not think the king had been expecting that answer, for a moment he looked quite dumbfounded. It was a good look on him.   
“Not at all. I think he would appreciate hearing it from you,” he told me, reached with his left hand- his hand -to nudge my shoulder, “don’t be an idiot.”   
Well, either Costis was wrong and I was an idiot, or the king was wrong and I wasn’t an idiot, so I don’t know why I wanted to tell them both that they were wrong.   
“I am sure he already knows,” I say. Eugenides clucks his tongue at me, steals a piece of my bread.   
“Never mind then,” he says, chewing as he speaks, “as you are both so certain - I will make the necessary arrangements.”   
He swings his leg back over the bench and stands up. While we had been speaking, his guards had filed one by one into the back of the room, along with his attendants, and they were gathered in a surly group by the door.   
“We’ll speak again soon,” he assured me, patting me on the shoulder, and rejoined the complaining knot of people, offering up the most miniscule of apologies for leaving them behind as he did.   
I finished my soup in confusion. I wasn’t sure what the king knew, or what the king thought he knew, and I had no idea what his last few comments were meant to mean. I was certain of nothing, truly. 

 

I had hurried from my last meeting, back to my rooms as the evening fell. I wanted to change into a warmer outer shift before going out with Costis, and I was relieved when we arrived at the rooms and he was not waiting there already. Fifteen or so minutes later I was less relieved. I was changed and sitting anxiously at my desk. Any number of unlikely scenarios were parading through my mind. When he did finally arrive, truthfully not at all late, I was all a bundle of nerves and a scowl. He took one look at me, sitting in my chair glaring at him, and stepped back to lean against the door and crossed his arms. From what I could make out of his face, he looked amused.  
“What is it?” he asked.  
“You’re late,” I accused him, “I thought you weren’t coming.”   
“Am I?” he asked lightly, pushed away from the door, “It is still an hour before even the court sits down for dinner, I thought I was early.”   
He is right.   
“Well,” I say “You never told me when you would come, so I thought you would be here after your shift, which finished awhile ago now.”   
“I had to wash and change out of my armour,” he replies easily and steps towards me. He stoops down and hooks his fingers round my belt to pull me onto my feet, his fingers press against my stomach.   
“Are you worried about leaving the castle?” he asks me quietly, “we don’t have to if you feel unsafe.”   
I scowl at him all the more, “I’m not worried,” I tell him, pulling his hand away from my belt, but he only lifts it to cup my face again as he had that morning. This time he tilts my head just slightly so I’m looking at him, and then he waits.   
I relent.   
“What if Melheret knows?” I ask, avoiding his gaze with difficulty, “He could have us followed. Just the two of us would be easy to pick off once we’re out of the castle-” Costis is shaking his head.   
“He doesn’t have the resources to have us followed,” he tells me, “and we’re not going anywhere secluded. You’re safe with me. Still,” he pauses, rubs my cheek with his thumb, “we don’t have to go out, we could go down to the kitchens and persuade them to give us some food and picnic in the garden, or I could take you to the guards mess-”  
I interrupt him now. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I say sharply, “we’re still going out. You will not take me to the guards mess thank you.” 

 

He takes me to a small wine shop, nothing special, but as promised, very clean.   
“If you think the nut cakes at the castle are good, you’re going to love the ones here,” he tells me once we are seated at a booth. “The baker who makes them at the castle is the daughter of the chef here - she’s not quite as good as her mother yet.”   
He was right, the cakes were even better. I suppose it was because at the castle they had to be baked in huge quantities, but here they could have extra attention paid to each one. The meat pie we split for dinner was also lovely, the wine sweet, the cheeses tasty, but I wasn’t really paying that much attention to the food.   
After spending a year almost solely with Costis, the five days without him had seemed ridiculously void of something, and it was both comforting and irritating to realise that the void was filled immediately by sitting next to him in a wine shop.   
We talked about nothing of any real consequence. He told me about his reunion with his friends, Aris in particular, of his audience with the king. I told him about the meetings, and about Melheret, about how I had been hearing people refer to me as the King-namer. He laughed at that, told me he had heard it already down in the barracks, and then threatened to only call me that from now on. I would have hit him, but then it would almost certainly have escalated and I would end up with wine down my shirt anyway. It was until after we’d finished eating that I remembered to say, “Oh, I spoke to the king-”   
“That was fast,” Costis said cheerfully, “I’m impressed you got an audience with him so quickly.”   
“I didn’t,” I shrugged and refilled our wine cups, “he turned up in the middle of my lunch and offered to make my traveling arrangements. I assumed you must have asked him about it before coming to see me.”   
“No,” Costis sounded confused, “I didn’t speak to him. He does have an annoying habit of knowing about things almost before you do them, though.” He pauses to take a mouthful of wine and to look me over. I’m sitting comfortably at his side, my ankle over my knee and my wine cup balanced against it.   
“Does this mean you’re coming to the valley then?” he asks and I smile, nod. 

 

I wasn't sure exactly if I was intending to return to the city after staying with Costis in the country, but it wasn't as if I had much to worry about leaving behind anyway, so I packed all my - very few - belongings for the trip. I was to travel by coach, a private one out of the city which would take me to an inn on the main road. I would stay the night at the inn, and then take a public coach from there to the Gede. Costis would meet me to take me at the town square and would take me to his farm from there.   
I would miss those I was leaving behind. I hadn't been in Attolia for long, but I feel like I made some true friendships, and was sad to not be able to promise to return. Another thing dampening my excitement to see Costis again was the knowledge that we would be staying with his family. He had only said nice things about them, and he seemed to have a good relationship with them, his father and sister at least if not his cousins, so I wasn't worried I’d spend the entire time in the middle of a family feud as I had been with my master. I was more worried that they wouldn't like me. I have had plenty of people dislike me before, but not people whose good opinion I usually cared about. Again, I don't think I would have cared about their opinion of me if it hasn't been so intrinsically tied to Costis. I worried that if they disliked me, Costis’ opinion of me would change as well. I had to remind myself that just because he trusted people easily didn’t mean he was incapable of making his own mind up. He’d already proven himself to be very stubborn. 

My anxiety took the opportunity of being alone with nothing to do, to revisit thoughts of Costis. I had known for a large part of our journey together that I felt something for him that I could not place, that it was something more than wary friendship. It had not been until after I had thought I had lost him down the well, after I had felt the joy and relief of his return, that I had been able to name it. I will not say that it was love. I think that would have been very naive of me to so quickly admit to love, especially when I was keeping secrets, but it was something like that. Something that kept me awake wanting to move closer and closer to him until I could feel his breath in my hair, touch his warm hand. Something that made me want to spill all my secrets out to him, to make me want to throw away my life to be with him for just a few moments longer. I tried to persuade myself in Zaboar, that maybe the way he looked at me, maybe the way he touched me so easily, maybe he felt the same way.   
Half of me had yearned for him to look at me through fevered eyes and admit love to me that he hadn't been able to confess unaffected, but I worried too much that if he did I would follow him to Attolia and damn the consequences. Or possibly, and this was somehow perversely worse, he would tell me of his affection and I would have still slipped away.   
However, all of this was now moot anyway. I feel certain, that even though I had been so surprised by his continued friendship, I could not kid myself that it was more than that, that he would be able to think of me as more than that now that he knew the extent of my deception. I had been more and more sure of this during our dinner in Attolia before he had left for the valley. 

I had allowed myself a glimmer of hope when he had come to me, had offered the reconciliation, but when I saw how he interacted with the friends of his we passed on the way out to town. Well. I realised I had simply mistaken his physical affection for something that it wasn't. From him it was only a sign of his friendship. He handed out hugs as if they were only casual greetings, even paused to kiss one man, Aris, quickly on the cheek as we passed. He was a very dear friend apparently. I was resigned to it then, that I could have Costis as my dear friend maybe, but that I was an idiot for even dreaming of anything more. I was sick and tired of making a fool of myself. I was very unwilling to do so by mistaking Attolian signs of friendship for courtship. 

 

The last leg of the journey I had shared the coach with a harried looking family with two crying children, a man who had blathered on incessantly to a very bored looking woman, and an old woman with a pack of wares she had been hawking in a small town fair. It was a small coach and we were jammed close together. It was an immense relief when the horses finally came to a stuttering halt in the small open area that was the town square. 

Costis was already there, I could hear him talking. Through the dirty coach window I could see he was leaning against a lamp post and chatting to someone whose features I couldn’t make out, but for his broad shoulders. When I stepped down out of the coach, having waited for the family to force their way out first, he tossed a farewell to the man and strode over to me. I smiled at him, expecting him to clap me on the shoulder in greeting, but instead he wrapped his arms round my waist and lifted me in an all encompassing hug, my feet dangling above the ground. I protested immediately, but forestalled him releasing me by wrapping my own arms around his neck. I didn’t know anybody else in the vicinity, and nobody here would know me, I had no need to worry about what they thought. As he held me tightly to him, I reminded myself, not for the first time that day, to ignore what I thought were futile desires. After he put me down, he collected my bags for me. I had only the two, and he swung the heavier one easily over his shoulder while I tugged the smaller one from his hand to hang on my shoulder.

“How was the trip?” he asks me, his hand on my lower back as he guides me away from the coach and the small group of people, towards a wide street that was more grass than road.   
“Dreadful,” I told him pointedly, “you might have told me that the journey would be so bumpy.”   
“If I had told you, you might not have come.”   
“True,” I agree with a grin, then shift to bump my shoulder against his side while we walked. “I think it will be worth the trip,” I tell him sincerely, “so long as no one asks me to describe the hallways in the palace of Ianna Ir one more time while I am here.”   
He chuckles, then swings his free arm over my shoulders.  
“No one will ask anything like it,” he assured me, “they are more likely to ask you more impertinent questions like your opinion on goat milk versus cow milk.”

I am less nervous than I thought I would about seeing him again after such an extended period, probably because he is as easy with his casual touch as he had been in Medea. Throughout the short trip out of the small town, down several short and dusty wagon roads, and across a few lush fields, he kept me close at hand, some part of us always touching.   
It is only when we reach the small cottage on the outskirts on what looks to be a very large farm, that he pulls away slightly from me. I try not to read too much into it, as he strides just a few feet ahead of me up the porch and pulls the door open, calling out a greeting as he does. I am very anxious that he is going to leave me to enter the house by myself, but he stops in the doorway and holds his hand out to me. I climb the steps quickly and let him take me by the hand, hoping he thinks the colour in my cheeks is from the heat of the day. We step into his house together just as his father appears in the entry room.   
“Ah good!” he exclaims upon seeing me, “now we won’t have to listen to Costis talking about you all day.”   
Now I can blame my blush on this instead. Costis is slowly turning red.   
'Pa!’ he exclaims, not angrily, “Let's not scare Kamet off before he even gets further inside than the hall,”  
His father laughs, then steps forwards to pull me out of Costis’ grip into a sudden embrace. He's as tall as Costis, and as wide, but his weight is a little softer than Costis’. I'm a little too shocked at the familiarity at first to lift my arms to respond to the hug, and by the time I realise, he's already pulling away. He's holding me by my upper arms while looking me over carefully.   
“You look like you need to eat,” he announced, releasing me, “Costis said you were smaller, he didn't say you were so skinny.”  
He turned and walked through the doorway which I learned led straight into their large joined kitchen and dining room. I looked back and up at Costis, I think I must have looked very dazed because he laughed softly and shook his head.   
“Maybe I ought to have warned you that my father is very outspoken,” he said softly, reaching out to take my bag from my shoulder. “I'll take you to our room first, but then we should probably appease his curiosity and let him feed you.”  
“Yes you should!” His father called from the next room, and, chuckling, Costis led me away. I followed him through another doorway into a shallow hall, and then into the first door to our left.

Costis’ bulk too up most of the room, but there were two low beds with a short table in between them, a lamp on that, and a squat wardrobe with a jug and ewer opposite them, to the right of the door. The one window let in a generous amount of light though, stopping the room from feeling claustrophobic. While I had been taking the room in, Costis had crossed over to one of the beds and had put both my bags down before turning to face me again. He looked a little worried.   
“I'm sorry it's not much, we will be a little cramped,” he said apologetically. I tut before I can stop myself, and wave away his concern.   
“It's more than enough, and certainly better than that cave you made me sleep in.”   
He laughs, and then drops heavily onto the bed not covered in my bags, and pats the space beside him.   
“If you think the cave was bad, you should have seen the bottom of that well.”   
I frown heavily at him, then perch on the bed next to him.  
“I came for you,” I point out, hurt for reasons I couldn't define, and Costis’ face drops slightly. He reaches out and pulls me closer against him, wrapping his arm around my waist.   
“You did,” he agrees, “you are my Immakuk.”  
“I'm not sure I quite fit the part,” I point out, but I let my head rest against his shoulder, “I can imagine you as Ennikar though. In trouble with a maid,” I add teasingly and he squeezes my side in response. I squawk, very undignified.   
“You're the only one I'm getting in trouble with lately,” he says.   
“Well,” I say, and then we hear his father call that the tea is getting cold and Costis pinches my side again. Before I can respond, he is on his feet and at the door.   
“There will be cake as well,” he says, and I follow him out. 

The longer we sit at the table with his father, the more resemblances I find between them. Although they are harder to find between the copious lines of his face, his father has dimples just like Costis’ when he smiles. Their hair curls the same way, though his is much lighter than Costis’, almost white all the way through. His eyebrows are very dark still.  
Their eyes are different colours, that is the biggest difference I can find between the two of them. That and his father talks a lot more. He asks me how I like my tea, and then about my journey here, and then about the owner of the inn as they knew each other, and then if I enjoyed my time at the castle, if I thought how clean Costis’ armor was was amusing, if I liked dates and would I like them in scones as he had some at hand. 

I like my tea a little too sweet and very dark. My journey was uneventful but scenic, and that I hadn't met the innkeeper. Apparently this was unsurprising because he was a ‘grumpy ass’ and I hadn't missed out. I had enjoyed my time at the castle, but was very glad to be away from all the politics for the time being, but yes, I thought Costis was perhaps a bit too meticulous in shining the metal. He protested, and both his father and I ignored him. I said I did like dates, and especially enjoyed them in scones. .

After he had served us the scones, he sat with his mug of tea and told us, or rather me, all about Thalia’s wedding, and Timos’ courtship of her, and how it had been since Timos had moved in. He mentioned several times how much he enjoyed having a son in law, and said he would be happy to have another as they were such a help on the farm and in keeping his children in check. I didn’t think Costis had another sister, but I didn’t want to sound ignorant, so I made a note to myself to ask him about it later in private. Costis interrupted several times to add in bits his father had missed out in the narrative, and to inform me that the reason Thalia and Timos weren’t currently here was because they were at a cattle market on the far outskirts of town. They were looking to purchase a milking goat, and perhaps another rooster as their current one was beginning to lack in certain aspects. I was told that they would be back in time for dinner though, and that Thalia especially was looking forward to meeting me. This stirred my nerves straight back into disarray but I smiled and nodded and said how much I was also looking forward to meeting her. That was of course true. 

Once we had finished the tea, a few farm hands came in and Costis’ father got back up to make more tea, and introduced the boys to me. I smiled and nodded to all of them, noted how lively they were in comparison to the house boys of the same age we had in Medea.   
I think Costis must have noticed how uncomfortable I was getting with how crowded the kitchen was becoming as more strangers traipsed in through the door that led from the kitchen right into the back yard, and touched his father’s arm.   
“We’re going to nap before we make dinner, it’s been a long day of travelling. Do you need anything before we leave?”   
We were waved away, and Costis took me by the elbow and led me back to our room. Once the door was closed, he raised his eyebrows at me and asked, “Would you actually like to nap?”   
I was tired, but also unwilling to waste time so quickly, so I shook my head and sat back down on his bed. He dropped himself down next to me, then sprawled himself out across the bed on his stomach, propping his head up on his elbow, and almost knocking me off the mattress. I pointed out that he was too big and the bed was too small and that I was in a very precarious position, and he wrapped his arm around my middle.   
“I’ll make sure you don’t fall off,” he told me with mock seriousness.   
I attempted to push myself further backwards, as if to squash him, but to no avail. I swear he is made of rock.   
“I thought you had only the one sister?” I ask instead, folding my arms, and he looks at me inquisitively as he rolls onto his side to give me more room, his arm still around me dragging me with him.   
“I do, Thalia and I are my father’s only offspring,” he replies, and I frown back at him.   
“And yet your father is hoping for more son in laws?” I ask, and watch curiously as his cheeks redden quickly. He drops his gaze from my face, and shrugs just one shoulder.   
“My father has a big mouth,” he says after a few moments, as if that is answer enough. When he looks up and sees me still watching him with a confused expression, he says, “I hope you’re not offended?”   
Nothing he is saying is explaining anything to me.   
“Why would I be offended?” I ask, and somehow his cheeks burn even hotter. I lift my hand and thoughtlessly press my cold fingers against them. He tips his face down into my palm.   
“He is assuming much, is all,” he mumbles awkwardly, and I still do not understand what it is I am not understanding. I blame my exhaustion from the trip for my sluggish mind, although it is a thin excuse. This is where I get a clue to this whole mess, and also where I am even more stupid as I still do not place what is going on.   
“I don’t mind,” I say, because I don’t, nothing was said at the table offended me in anyway. Costis’ face is still as bright as an ember, but he smiles at me, and lifts his hand to cover mine on his face, then turns and presses a kiss to my palm.   
I am blushing as well now, although I am thinking that I have a lot to learn about Attolian culture, because I’m not understanding any of this exchange. I don’t know how I am expected to be reacting, so I sit there as still as a statue and try to focus on anything but the feel of his lips still against my skin, or the riot in my stomach.   
“Would you like to unpack some of your things?” Costis asks me, breath damp on my hand, “I’m sure you have some clothes you’d prefer to hang up sooner rather than later.” 

I hang my simple, but finely made clothes (gifts from the king, alongside an array or writing equipment) alongside Costis’. I’ve brought along with me more clothes than he seems to own, and I’m a little embarrassed at taking up so much of his space, but Costis laughs and says, “I’m glad the closet is less bare now, it’ll be harder for spiders to make their nests.”   
I stare at him, horrified.   
“Do you often have spiders in your clothes?” I ask, and he looks as if he’s about to spin some fanciful story to wind me up, but then shakes his head.   
“Only once. Your clothes are safe here.” 

After my things are tidied away, Costis ends up insisting I do nap, apparently my eyes were drooping. I lie down on my now clear bed, intending on only closing my eyes for a moment to appease him. When I open my eyes again, the light, which had still been pouring in the window when I had lain down, had faded to a dim pink glow, and Costis wasn’t in the other bed. I sat up quickly, quickly squashing down the automatic panic that comes from waking in a strange place unexpectedly, and listen carefully. I can hear Costis’ voice, calm and steady, and his father’s, as well as a few others. I think his sister must have arrived home. I think I must be making a bad impression already, to have been asleep for who knows how long. There is a small looking-glass balanced on the dresser, behind the jug and ewer, and I pause in front of it a moment to brush ineffectively at my hair. Trying to make it sit flat with just the palm of my hand, and then I straighten my shift and follow the sound of voices. 

The door to the kitchen is open, and there’s light and noise, and a sizzling smell pouring out of it. I pause at the entrance to take in the scene - Costis standing over the small stove, skillet in hand and flour on his cheeks. His father is at the table with a glass of what looks to be wine, the woman beside him must be Thalia. Her long curly hair is loose over her shoulders, and several strands of it are stuck to her face, which is pink as if she had been bending over an oven. She too has a glass of wine, and is laughing at something which the man who must be her husband, had said. He is short, although of course still much taller than I am, and dark haired, and sitting on a low stool by the table shucking peas into a bowl.   
“Kamet!” Costis’ father calls suddenly, and motions at me in the shadows with one hand while lifting a bottle with the other. “Come have a drink!”   
Thalia stands as I walk into the light, and, like her father before her, pulled me into a tight hug as greeting.   
“It’s so good to meet you!” She tells me brightly, “We’ve heard a lot about you,” she adds on as she pulls out a chair for me to sit at the table with them.   
I glance at Costis who is still at the stove, though he’s turned his body so he can smile at me. I smile at Thalia, using my years of careful training not to look nervous, and say as lightly as I can, “Nothing bad, I hope.”   
“Oh please,” Timos says, he’s standing up now and reaching into a cupboard to take out a glass, which he hands over to his father in law, “I don’t think Costis has said one mean thing about you this last fortnight.” Once he’s handed over the glass, he holds his hand out to me, “I’m Timos,” he says, “And you are Kamet, the one who called Eugenides the great king.” He is speaking with amusement, but it’s not cruel amusement, and I let myself laugh, even if I can feel myself flushing again.   
“Mostly,” Thalia is saying, “he has told us about how good you are at story telling, though he refused to tell us any of your stories, he says that we will have to persuade you to tell them because he would just ruin them.”   
I am handed a glass of sweet wine, and I speak carefully, “I would be happy to tell you some later if you want, although I worry he has oversold my skill in it.”   
“He’s being uncharacteristically humble,” Costis says loudly. 

Dinner is unexpectedly lovely. It is overwhelming for all of fifteen minutes until the combined effort of the wine and the easy affection between the people around me softens the hard ball in my gut. Once the food had been cooked, Thalia sets the table around us and Costis serves the food before slipping in to sit between me and his sister. Despite the fact that the table is large enough to fit several more people, all of us are crowded around only two of the sides, Thalia and Timos sitting so close they may as well have been on the same stool at the end of the table, and Costis, his father, and I in a clump on one side of it.   
They talk about all manners of things, and I get to simply sit and listen for the most part, letting the warmth of it all wash over me. The more wine I drink, the more distracting Costis’ thigh pressed against mine is, and I think vaguely that I ought to stop drinking, but his father refills my glass whenever it is near empty, and I don’t want to be rude. Anyway, everyone else is drinking freely, and laughing freely, and Thalia and Timos are leaning against each other, his arm loose around her shoulders. My stomach is full and heavy with good food and too much wine, my body is warm, and my mind is relaxed. I think they’re talking about their expectations for this years harvest, and I honestly couldn’t care less, but I can’t seem to bring myself to be bored. Thalia catches my eye from across the table, and smiles widely at me, then leans her head against Timos’ shoulder. I smile back, and without thinking about it, lean my head against Costis’. He’s mid-sentence, and I hear him stutter just a little bit, which is how I realise how tipsy I must be. Before I can sit up straight again, he’s wrapped his arm around me, tucking his hand in at my waist to hold me against him, and has continued talking as if nothing has happened. 

By the time we all disperse, yawning heavily, it’s past midnight, and we stumble in the dark to our beds, leaving the lamps for Thalia and their father. I pitch myself at my bed, rubbing my face against the rumpled sheets. I can hear Costis pouring us cups of water, and I force myself into a sitting position so that I can take the cup when he hands it to me. He perches next to me on the bed, and even in the faint moonlight I can make out the smile on his face.   
“They like you,” he tells me, “if it’s not blatantly obvious.”   
I swallow a mouthful of water, and squint through the darkness at him, “I like them too. They are very like you.”   
Costis makes a noise of amusement, then takes my empty cup back and places it on the low table.   
“You seem very happy,” he says quietly, and I would roll my eyes at him if they weren’t so heavy with wine.  
“I am,” I agree, and he nudges me with his shoulder.  
“I’m glad,” he says, and then, “I’ve missed you.”   
It hadn’t been very long since he had left the city, and I’m sure the both of us had been kept very busy during our time apart, probably too busy to miss anyone. But, I had missed him too. I found myself very lonely at the palace, even as I remade friendships, and forged new ones, there was always something missing.   
“You’re-” I pause, unsure how to word this, very aware that my brain is fuzzy with the alcohol and the late hour. “You’re very affectionate after drinking,” I say.   
“Oh,” he pulls back just a little, our legs are still pressed together. “Sorry-” he says, “is it too much?”   
“No, no.” I shake my head, “It’s just - I’m unused to - it’s - nice - that you and your family are so easy with each other. I don’t think I have been around people who hug quite as much as you all do.”   
“You’re not uncomfortable with it?” Costis asks carefully, and I shake my head. “Alright,” he says, cups my face in his hand, “tell me if it gets to be too much, yes?” he asks, and I nod now. I cover his hand with mine, like he had done to me earlier, and turn my face in his hand to kiss his palm, calluses rough against my lips. In hindsight I blame the wine.   
“The wine has you more affectionate as well,” he says, very quiet. What little light had been coming in through the window from the moon had disappeared, probably behind clouds.   
“I suppose so,” I reply into his hand. He rubs his thumb up my cheekbone, and then across my closed eyelids, and sighs.   
“We should sleep,” he says, and I don't bother replying, shifting down the bed until my head hits the pillow, my eyes not opening even as Costis combs his fingers through my hair and tucks a loose lock behind my ear. I'm asleep before he's even returned to his own bed. 

I wake in the morning to what must be the most virile rooster in this side of the middle sea. I had forgotten to ask about the cattle market the other day, but now I knew that Thalia and Timos had at least managed to purchase the rooster they had wanted. Grumbling from nearby told me that the rooster had woken Costis as well, so I sit up and squinted blearily over at him.   
“How's your head?” He asks me, lifting his arms above his head to stretch. I feel remarkably well considering how much I'd drank the previous night, and how early the shrieking of the rooster was, so I told him so and watched as he climbed out of bed and into his pants. He didn't bother with his shirt though, instead, padded over to the wardrobe and splashed his face with water from the jug.   
“They did a good job choosing that bird,” I say, dragging myself from the blankets to join him at the wardrobe. My face was stiff with sleep and I wanted to try and wash mobility back into it.   
“Perhaps too good a job,” Costis agrees, and then splashed me. 

If the rest of the household hadn't been woken by the crowing, they would certainly have woken up at my yelp of shock.   
“It's not as cold as snow melt,” Costis says in mocking comfort, and then splashed me again. He has the better end of it when I start splashing him back. He hasn't got a shirt on, but I do, and it clings to me damply as it gets slowly soaked.  
He's backing me up against the wall, splashing me still.  
I grab his wrists in a foolish attempt to stop him, I know very well that I don't have the strength to stop even one of his fingers for any length of time, let alone both his arms, but he concedes, and condescends to let me pull him around and pin his arms against the wall. He's laughing at me, not struggling at all, and I am ridiculously triumphant for someone who knows that I am simply being appeased.   
“Well,” he says, face wide with a grin, “I am thoroughly awake now.”  
There's a knock on the door and I jump back, startled, pulling my hands away guiltily.   
“If you're so awake, why don't you go milk the new goat?” Thalia calls through the door, then continues on her way through to the kitchen.  
“Have you milked a goat before?” Costis asks me, yanking open the wardrobe and pulling out a loose shirt. He yanks it on over his wet torso, seemingly not caring that damp patches immediately appeared on the cloth.   
“No I haven't,” I say, fumbling with my shirts laces, unwilling to go outside in such wet clothing. “I was worth too much money to waste my hands on goats,” I roll my eyes as I speak so he knows I do not think it beneath me, and he laughs at me again.   
“Would you like to learn?” He asks, then seems to reconsider, “Although I'm not familiar with this nanny, she might not be the easiest to milk.”   
I shrug as I pull my shirt off, “You can go first then,” I say, then look around to see where I might put the shirt to dry. He takes it from me, says he will go hang it on the line outside.

I am glad for the few moments alone from Costis. He disappears, shutting the door behind him, and I charge my beating heart to slow down, my stomach to cool. I have barely been here a day and I am already forgetting to quell my wants. I am sure he had noticed nothing unusual, but I had shocked myself with how much I wanted to press him against the wall. If we had not been interrupted, I would have lingered against him for too long, and that would have been awkward. I dry and dress quickly and go to join Costis.   
He is leaning through the kitchen window, passing eggs in to Thalia. As I walk into the kitchen, she turns and smiles at me, her apron full of eggs, and asks if I would like mine poached or scrambled.   
I ask for scrambled, and Costis says he will have the same. Timos comes in from the door leading into the yard just then, obviously having come in from tending some animals. He looks as if he had been up and outside for a long time already. He says he wants his eggs boiled and Thalia tells him he can make his own then. I join Costis outside. 

He leads me away from the house, after grabbing a bucket and a short stool from a lean to by the door. We walk past the clothes line, my shirt pinned up neatly amongst linen, until we reach a small pen surrounding a little shed.   
“We will only keep her in here, away from the other animals, for a short time,” Costis tells me, although I hadn't questioned it, “we want to get her comfortable with us before we introduce her to her field mates.” 

I watch as he enters the stall and negotiates with the nanny goat. She gives easily, Costis is hard to resist to both animals and humans I suppose, and he settles his stool by her, stroking her still. He instructs me to come in, to stand behind him so as to see what he's doing without being in the way, and I do. I'm still wary of the goat, but Costis is between it and me and I am sure he will keep me out of harm.   
I am only watching for a very short while, probably over impressed with Costis for being so proficient in a job I know even small children do with ease. He reaches with one hand to pull me closer, motions for me to take over. I expect him to stand, to give me the stool, but he only shuffles back a little in it and pulls me in between his legs to perch on the edge of it with him balanced awkwardly as well. If his thighs weren't so tightly bracketing mine I think I would have fallen off. He slots his head on my shoulder and instructs my hands quietly. 

When we return to the house, Costis carrying the bucket of milk, I am stupidly proud of myself. Logically I know that I did nothing at all remarkable, that it's not worthy of praise even from myself, but just Costis’ smile when I had finished had been enough to inflate my head and my self importance.   
Thalia instructs me to sit at the dining table while she finishes the eggs, and timos takes the milk from Costis to add to the tea he has brewed. Costis drops himself down into the chair next to me and takes one of my hands in his.   
“Well,” he says to me, holding my hand up to his face, his expression very serious, “they don't look less expensive,” he turns my hand to examine the other side, “yes, still very valuable,” he tells me, and then brings my knuckles to his lips and kisses them before releasing my hand.   
I think I could die.

Costis takes me out to see more of the farm after breakfast. He introduces me to a multitude of people, most are his cousins, some are hired hands. All of them receive payment. He talks freely of his childhood, of the work he had done here, of the fields, the animals, the people. For the most part I listen, along very few questions. I am very happy to just be spoken to now, after long weeks of talking myself hoarse. He is constantly touching me, taking me by the elbow to draw my attention to one thing or another, bringing me forwards with a hand on my back to introduce me to the people we come across, slinging his arm round my shoulders as we stroll. 

We pass the whole day like this, in various forms of introduction, whether it is to the goat, or the fields, or the farm hands, or even the idea that was slowly making itself more comfortable in my mind that I was welcome here. 

When dinner come around, Costis’ father asks my opinion of the farm, and I give it honestly.  
“It runs smoothly,” I say, “your people are thorough and kind, it looks to yield bountiful crops, and, of less importance I am sure, it is very beautiful.”   
I do not look at Costis as I say this, I am convinced that if I do someone will point out that it's Costis that I think is the most beautiful thing here. I could half expect the king to pop up again it of nowhere and announce it loudly.   
His father is extremely pleased, although I think he shouldn't take so much stock in my opinion, I have no training in such matters, and had been kept as a house slave knowing little of farm work. I tell him this, or at least a more impersonal version of this, and he shrugs.   
“Costis has told me that you are very well skilled in management, and judgement of character, so it is good to hear that you judge this place so highly!”  
Every time anyone mentions what Costis has said about me I am surprised twice over. First because I would never have expected Costis to have said much about me, certainly not enough for it to have made such an impact, and then secondly because each time it is brought up Costis turns a delicate shade of pink, but does not look unpleased. 

Our next few days pass quite similarly, we rise with the crowing, I pad around after Costis as he teaches me small skill after skill- how to gather eggs without upsetting the chickens, how to feed the pigs without being overrun, how to hang the washing with the most economy for pegs. Sometimes we cook the breakfast, eggs and thick bread, or gloopy porridge with honey and nuts. During the day we go out to the fields, apparently Costis is just standing in as a general overseer for his father while the man who actually holds the job is at home with his newborn child. Costis assures me that he'll be back soon, and then we can spend some time in the small town, go to the stream maybe. He wants to teach me to fish for eels. As it is currently though, it is a lot of walking through tall crops, and talking to a lot of dirty men. In the evening we all gather for tea, and then dinner and drinking and talking and often some singing. Sometimes I will tell a story. Occasionally field hands, or cousins join us. I prefer it when it is just the five of us, but I don't say this. 

On the fourth day of this, Costis looks at me, still yawning and tangled in my blankets, as he pulls his clothes on, and says, “My father asks if you would like to stay in today and go over his budget sheets with him. He would appreciate the company more than anything, I think.”   
His tone is casual, but even with sleep blurred eyes I can see he looks a little nervous. I cannot think why, his father and I got along perfectly well, I enjoyed talking to him, and we both enjoyed teasing Costis together. I thought maybe Costis was worried that I would feel used. I had not been asked to use any of my managing or accounting skills since I had left my master, maybe he thought I would want to leave that behind. I sat up.   
“I would enjoy that,” I say, stretch my arms above my head, “I have missed working with numbers.”   
Costis’ face disappeared behind his shirt, but his stance looked more relaxed.   
“He will be very pleased,” he said, sounding very pleased himself. He sat down on the edge of my bed, then reached out to pat my mussed hair down. “Do not… let him pressure you into anything,” he said slowly and I frowned up at him.   
“Such as?” I ask, unable to think what Costis was worried I would end up committing myself to, “you think he is going to try and persuade me to stay on as his numbers man?”   
Costis laughs, drops his hand to his lap and shrugs, “I don't know, maybe.”  
So that was a strange beginning for my day. We breakfasted together as usual, and then Thalia and Tmos disappeared off in one direction, and Costis in the other. He lingered a moment after the other two had left, to check again that I was happy to help his father. His father always slept in just a little longer than his children, Costis said he did not sleep well, and they didn't begrudge him his later start. I assured him that yes, I would be pleased to do this, and in fact I was quite looking forward to using the skills I was most confident in.

I am left alone in the kitchen with my mug of tea and a stripy cat eying me up from across the room. We had been wary of each other, me and the farm cats, I think because we were all aware that I had had little experience with them. However, I had shown myself willing to let them press their faces against my hands, and had even fed them a few times. By the time Costis’ father entered the kitchen, the cat was on my lap. I greeted him quietly, worried that if I was too loud the cat would leave. I said this to him, and he laughed at me, assured me that now I had proven myself willing to be sat upon I would never be able to get rid of them. He was right about this, after this morning, whenever I sat with my lap available in the kitchen, a cat would always attempt to make itself comfortable. We chatted easily as he bustled about then, pouring his tea and scooping the left over porridge into a bowl. He didn't like his with honey, but he had lots of nuts. I had offered to serve him, but he had raised his eyebrows at me and told me quite sternly that I was a guest here and he would serve himself  
I was not sure why I got along so easily and comfortably with him. I suspect it had something to do with the fact that he was Costis’ father, and I trusted Costis implicitly. I think it also was something to do with the fact he hadn't given me a chance to be stand offish, he had greeted me like an old friend, and had continued to really to me over the last few days as if he had already known me for years. 

We spent the morning going over his paperwork. For the most part it was very well managed, he was good at what he did, and also at keeping records of it. I judged that he would prefer I point out any errors, and so I did, but there were only a few, and nothing large. By the time lunch came by, we had gone over everything from the last quarter and I had offered to go over his projections for the next quarter as well. I was having fun, it was refreshing to feel so confident in the work I was doing. We took lunch with some field hands who had been nearby, as well as Thalia, and then returned to his desk to keep working. 

“You know,” Costis’ father said conversationally about half an hour back into our work, “Costis has never brought anyone home before.”   
I look up from the papers to find him watching me with a small smile, which I return.   
“So,” I say, “I did not know. I was flattered to be invited before, and now I am even more so.”   
I was so flattered, I felt I could burst from it. Everyday I seemed to learn more of how highly he regarded me, and it continues to confuse me.  
“I'm sure you know how easily friendly Costis is with people,” his father continued, “sometimes he comes off even a little naive in his trust of people, but he's very much like his mother. She would also be kind to anyone, but only really trusted or even really enjoyed the company of a few.”   
I nodded, not just out of politeness, I was genuinely interested in this insight into his family.   
“of course, she was a lot better at expressing her feelings. Costis tends to chew on his cheeks more. I was very pleased to see how openly affectionate he is with you.”   
I find myself blushing. I had thought Costis was no more affectionate with me then he was with any other of his friends, and I wondered if I ought to have not received his affections so casually. I had not wanted to appear affection starved, but maybe now he thought that I didn't take them seriously.   
“I-” I've started talking before I know what to say, but he just watches me easily, waits for my words to come. “I worry that I- disappoint him with my lack of reciprocation. I am not so experienced with things like this.” I am embarrassed with how clumsy my words are, but he is only nodding seriously.   
“I do not think you need to worry,” he tells me, “I've seen how overly pleased he is with even just a smile from you. He is very patient.”   
I had not noticed how pleased he was when I smiled at him. I wondered what he would think of his father telling me all of this.   
“I appreciate his patience with me,” I reply eventually, knowing that it is true what his father says, Costis had been unendingly patient with me since the moment we had met. I got a firm pat on the shoulder, a warm smile, and then we returned to work. It strikes me as a very odd conversation to have, and I am beginning to feel something in the very pit of my stomach that I can only explain as hope. 

I was taking an afternoon nap, drowsy from the hours of staring at small writing in the sun warmed office, when Costis returned. I opened my eyes just briefly as he closed the bedroom door behind him, very quietly so as not to disturb me, and watched as he walked to his bed and pulled his sweat stained tunic off before lying down on his stomach. The late afternoon light coming in the window made the sweat on his back gleam as if he had been oiled to make his muscles stand out. It was a very good view, and I would have been happy to stare at it for longer, but I had missed him, and wanted to know how his day had been.   
“Long day?” I ask, and watch as he starts, then rolls onto his side to look at me.   
“I thought you were sleeping,” he says, faintly accusatory.   
“You woke me with your heavy footsteps,” I retort, not cruelly, and Costis chucks his pillow at me. I catch it, and tuck it under my head on top of my own pillow.   
“Huh,” Costis grumped, then propped himself up on his shoulder to look at me. “Did you have a good day with my father?” He asks, and I nod.   
“We went through the last year's papers, then just last quarter, the last few weeks, and the projections for next quarter. It is all in good order.”   
“That's good to hear,” Costis says, then rolls to lie flat on his back, and stares up at the ceiling, “it was very kind of you to lend him your skill,” he says, and I scoff. “You know how pleased I am to get to show off my talents,” I tell him, “besides, I enjoy talking to him. It is always… illuminating.”   
There is silence for a few moments, and then Costis takes the bait.   
“Oh?” He says with careful disinterest, “how so?”  
“Costis,” I say, “I don't think I've told you how flattered I am to have been invited here.”   
I hear him sit up, but I've closed my eyes again. I am already regretting beginning this conversation I am starting. I do want to let him know how happy I was, and am to be here, but I am afraid that it will end up too close to some other conversation. I am not trying to purposefully fan any embers of hope I have that he returns my feelings, rather, I am attempting to squelch them out immediately by running then past him. If only I could do this without revealing myself. 

“There’s no need to be flattered, this isn't the loveliest place you've been, I am sure,” he says. 

“I am even more flattered than I had been though-” I continue, ignoring him, ignoring the fact that I may be about to reveal myself. “-Now that I know none of your other friends have had the pleasure of visiting here.” 

“Oh,” Costis says, and then, “well. It's different with my friends from the guard. With you- I want - it's different with you, you do know that, don't you Kamet?”   
I can feel him watching me, and I open my eyes.   
“Yes,” I say, “I can imagine it would be.” 

I don't think this is the right answer, Costis looks inexplicably disappointed. He tries again.   
“Kamet,” he says, “I want to make it plain, the extent of my affections for you.” 

I can imagine him telling me that his affection only reaches so far. Him telling me that he had only invited me here because his king asked him to. Him telling me that the difference between me and his other friends was that they were free men and knew how to act like it. I think he has realised the extent of my affections for him, and is about to put an end to them right now, and I am not ready for that. Fear always makes me a little stupid.

“I know,” I tell him sharply, “I know. You don't have anything to worry about.” 

There is a moment of silence again. Then Costis says,  
“Oh.”   
I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, “That is that, then,” I say clumsily, standing, “I am going to see if I can help with the dinner.”   
I leave him in the bedroom, staring after me.   
I know I am being stupid.   
I wish I knew how to manage these things without panicking and saying idiotic things. I was never this much of an idiot as a slave.   
I help with dinner. After sometime Costis comes out of our room and helps out as well. I don’t say anything to him, but he brushes his hand across my shoulders and I am not so worried that things will be awkward between us. I think he is just putting my strange behaviour down to our cultural differences, or our different upbringings. 

Over dinner Costis’ father praises my work effusively, until my face is far too pink, and I am hiding it in my drinking cup. Thalia teases me about my propensity for blushing, and I point out that Costis blushes far more easily than I do - to prove my point Costis immediately pinkens. He pushes my shoulder, not ungently.  
“He does, doesn’t he,” Timos agrees with a laugh, “I wouldn’t expect it of such a decorated soldier as yourself, Costis!”   
Costis shrugs, copies my hiding techniques.   
“I think,” Thalia said, very happily switching teasing victims, “that we don’t see quite as many of his blushes as you do, Kamet, your presence really brings the heat out in him.”   
I think this is the moment that I begin to stop being such an ignorant ass.   
I look at Costis, who always sits so close to me at this large table, who is blushing terrifically, but doesn’t seem at all abashed about it.   
“If we keep teasing him about it, he’ll never bring Kamet around again,” his father says in amused warning.  
I sit there and I think about how much of an idiot I am.   
“I won’t let him keep us away,” I tell them. 

I am very anxious for dinner to be over. I want to steal Costis away into the privacy of his room and tell him all about how stupid I am. Or at the very least give him time to actually talk instead of interrupting him at first panic. Because I want dinner to be over quickly, it of course drags out for several hours. By the time people begin drifting towards bed, I am worried Costis will be too tired for a conversation, and maybe a little too drunk, possibly me as well if I am honest with myself. 

Once we are alone in our room however, my nerve fails me somewhat. I strip my outer clothes off, and sit on the foot of my bed, every second thinking I am about to bring up the courage to speak, but never quite managing it. Costis is slower in undressing, his back is to me and he can’t see my nerves dancing all over my face. It’s not until he gets into bed, pulling the blankets up over his shoulders and turning on his side away from me, that I finally speak. The horror of putting it off overnight more pressing than the worry that I will be wrong yet again.   
“Costis,” I say.  
He glances over his shoulder at me.  
“Kamet.” 

“I want to apologise. For making such a mess of that conversation before dinner.” 

He rolls onto his back, tips his head on the pillow to look at me.   
“It was a bit of a mess,” he agrees.  
“I think I got the wrong end of the stick,” I say. I am still sitting on the edge of my bed, very obviously intent on holding a conversation and not sleeping. He sits up, but doesn’t say anything.  
“I also think I’ve been a bit of an idiot,” I say slowly, “That, or I am about to be even more of an idiot.”   
“If it helps,” Costis offered, “you won’t ever look like an idiot to my father. He’s very enamoured with you.”   
“I appreciate that,” I say, “but it isn’t him I want to be enamoured with me.”   
I let the words sit between us. If I am right this time, then Costis will understand just fine, and if I am wrong as I think I often am in these moments with him, then hopefully in his confusion I would be able to sweep it all under the rug again.   
“Do you honestly not know?” Costis asks, shaking his head, and I shrug, because I do not know what I do not know. “I thought you must know, I was never subtle,” he says. He’s speaking cautiously as if worried I will suddenly change my mind about wanting to talk about this, or take offense at his words.   
“So,” I say, “apparently I’m not very good at this.”   
“Neither am I then,” Costis says, “I should have made my intentions a lot clearer a lot sooner. I am sorry, Kamet.”   
I ignore the panic in my stomach, just because he is apologising to me doesn’t mean he is about to deliver bad news.   
“Your family doesn’t think I am just your good friend, do they?” I ask, and Costis shakes his head.   
“I didn’t tell them otherwise, but I didn’t deny my own feelings either,” he admits, “I thought - I thought that you knew what they thought and were happy with that.”   
“I think I am blinder than I realised,” I say. We are sitting opposite each other on our separate beds, I know Costis is watching me closely, but I am staring down at his knees.   
“Well then,” he says, “I think to avoid future confusion I ought to lay things out clearly.”   
I nod.   
“I care for you a lot,” he says, “I haven’t courted anyone for a long time, and am very out of practice - but - I, Kamet, I am very much enamoured with you. I would like the two of us to - to be the two of us.” It is not a very pretty speech, and it’s delivered very haltingly, he stutters uncharacteristically over his words, and I think in any other situation I might have been amused.   
“So,” I say to my hands, “I thought I was doomed to pine for you the rest of my life. It seemed to fit quite well with the rest of the narrative of my story. I’m not even certain what to do now I’ve been proven wrong.”   
The two of us are silent for a while, listening to the creaking of the house.   
“I think maybe what you should do next is sleep,” Costis suggests finally, “It’s late, and I know that I at least had too much to drink.”  
I nod. It’s not very helpful, but my mind is irritatingly blank.   
“None of this is going to change overnight,” Costis says, “and we don’t have to do anything about it until you are comfortable. We have the time.”   
I want to tell him that I am comfortable with it right now, and that maybe we will suddenly run out of time. I know he is right though. For all of my dreaming and hoping and wanting, suddenly being told that I can have what I desire was too much. I think if he hasn’t courted anyone for a long time, it has been even longer for me. It is almost humiliating to think of my inexperience. I nod again, feeling very, very young, much younger than my years.   
I hear him exhale loudly, and look up to see him, head dropped down, running his hands through his hair.   
“I am sorry,” he says, “for any discomfort this has caused you.”  
I still don’t know how else to respond to real apologies, so I shrug, “I’m sorry too,” I tell him. He reaches out then, very cautiously, like you might hold a hand out to a stray cat. I take his hand in mine, squeeze it. 

He gets up to put the lamp out, and I climb under my covers, extremely tired. He gets back into bed without speaking anymore, and we lie in silence in the dark until I say, “Goodnight,” 

The morning comes too soon. I feel as if I’ve only just closed my eyes, only just calmed my aching chest. The window is still dim, the rooster hasn’t crowed yet. Thalia will still be asleep, Timos will already be out in the far fields, Costis is lying still under his covers. I lie on my side and watch the blankets ripple with the movement of his breaths. I imagine, not for the first time, lying beside him, caught in the crook of his arm, or pressed against his back, or barely even touching, maybe just our feet tangling.  
I wonder if he wants this too - I think, though I still don’t know, that he must have thought we were already in the beginning of a relationship. He had never suggested we sleep together, never tried to kiss me. Maybe he didn’t want that sort of thing. I had known people before who didn’t like it, couldn’t see the appeal of sex or any intimacy past touching hands. I had, for a while, thought that I was the same, after Marin though, I realised I simply didn’t enjoy the act when I had no choice in the matter.   
If Costis doesn’t want that, the kissing, sex, anything else like that, I wouldn’t begrudge him for it. I had been, was still, willing to only be his friend. I didn’t crave sex the way I craved the comfort of his presence, of his hand on the small of my back.   
But I was getting far too ahead of myself, I was indulging in my anxiety. I forced myself to stop thinking of ‘ifs’ and ‘maybes’, and sat up instead.   
At this small movement, Costis twitched, then rolled over to face me, his eyes flickering open blearily.   
“Sorry,” I whisper, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”   
“What time is it?” he mumbles, and I glance at the window again.   
“Early,” I say, “The rooster won’t crow for a while yet.”   
He shifts until he’s propped up on his elbow, and squints across at me, “Are you alright?”   
“Yes,” I say, “I woke too early is all.”   
He grunts, and drops back down onto his pillow, “How long have you been lying awake worrying?”  
I would glare at him, but his eyes are closed and it would be wasted.   
“Not long,” I say instead.   
His eyes are still shut, but his face is going through a series of expressions, none of which I can quite place, until it lands on stubborn, and he opens his eyes and lifts his blanket.   
“Come here,” he says, more a suggestion than a command.   
I don’t move immediately, and Costis closes his eyes again, “If you want,” he adds, “I thought it might be nicer than lying awake and alone.”   
I get out of my bed, step across the small distance between us, and climb under Costis’ covers. He pulls them over my back, draping them and his arm over my shoulders, and pulls me closer.   
It all feels exceedingly normal, I rest my forehead against his collarbone and feel like I’ve always done so. His body is sleep hot, entirely relaxed against mine, which is taut with nerves not yet quelled. I’ve ever felt so dwarfed next to a bed mate before.   
He speaks just above my head, “Is this alright?”   
I exhale a hot breath across his chest, “Yes.” I say. I do not say, ‘It is better than alright. This is what I have always wanted. I never want to sleep alone again.’ 

I wasn’t expecting to go back to sleep, so when I woke up again, scrunched up against Costis’ chest, I was very surprised. I was even more surprised to realise I was woken by Costis’ voice.   
He was replying to, I think it must be Thalia, but my mind was still too foggy with sleep to translate what he was saying. I was too busy jerking up to see if she was in the room with us, seeing me asleep on her brother. She wasn’t, the door was still closed, and I immediately felt relieved, and then guilty. Thalia had probably already assumed we slept together at least some of the time. Just because I had taken a while to catch up to what was going on doesn’t mean that she would have been surprised to see us in this position.   
Costis is looking at me warily, his arm is still around my waist even though I am twisted awkwardly upright. We both listen to Thalia’s footsteps out of the hallway and into the kitchen.  
“I wouldn’t invade your privacy by inviting her in while you were sleeping,” Costis says quietly, and my face burns. I hadn’t meant to hurt him. He looks as if he’s about to get out of bed, so I quickly lie back down against him, hook my arm around his waist.   
“Don’t leave, please,” I say into his neck, and feel his arm tense around me.  
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, “I was just telling Thalia we would eat later.”   
I wonder how long he will put up with my constant distrust of everything.   
“What time is it?” I ask, and am not surprised when he tells me the rooster crowed quite a long time before. Sunlight is pouring into the room, and I can hear the faint noises of daily bustle outside our window.   
“Have you been awake long?” I ask, peeling myself away from him slightly so I can look up at his face. He tips his head down to look back at me, and he doesn’t look so cautious now.   
“A while,” he says, “I didn’t want to wake you though. Although I admit that was somewhat selfish of me, I mostly just wanted to hold you for longer.”   
I decide that if we are being so honest with each other, I ought to just ask the questions I want answered.   
“How long have you thought that we were… a couple?” I ask.   
“I didn’t-” Costis cuts himself off with a quick shake of his head, “I’m not sure. I thought maybe since - since Attolia?” I stared at him and he shrugged, “I didn’t know how to ask without sounding ridiculous.”   
“So,” I say, knowing that if I thought this was ridiculous, I was more ridiculous for not noticing. “Why do we have separate beds then?”   
“That would have put too much pressure on you,” he says simply, “I didn’t want to overstep your boundaries.”   
“Is that why you haven’t kissed me, either?” I ask.  
“Yes,” he looks nervous again, “now that we are speaking plainly, I suppose we ought to actually discuss what we want?”   
“I want to kiss you,” I say promptly, “beyond that - I hadn’t let myself consider it properly before.”  
He nods, “Is there anything you don’t want?” he asks, “So I don’t step on your toes at all.”   
It’s a serious question, so I pause and consider it for a while before I answer. There are plenty of things I don’t want, but most of them apply to completely different circumstances. I think that I would give Costis nearly anything, although again, that was an answer to a different question. Finally, I say, “I don’t want to be apart. I missed you terribly while I was in Attolia.”   
Despite the fact that we are pressed together in bed, having a very intimate conversation, admitting this still brings heat to my cheeks. 

He lifts his hand from my waist, strokes my flushed cheeks, says, “I am more than happy to agree to that,” then ducks his head down until his lips brush against mine.   
He lets me close the distance, shifting infinitesimally closer until I can press my lips more firmly against his in something that approximates a kiss. I keep my mouth very firmly closed against his, and pull back after only a few seconds, breathing much harder than I ought to be. 

He keeps his hand on my face, doesn’t move to kiss me again, but neither does he move to pull away. “Something wrong?” he asks, I suppose in response to my struggled breathing.   
“I think I must have dreamed this a hundred times,” I tell him, “imagined it play out a hundred different ways, and I still didn’t manage to guess just how sweet this moment would be. I don’t care if I sound like a ridiculous sap,” I add.   
Costis makes a noise that could very easily be a laugh, but I’m not sure.   
“You realise that now I will never want to get out of this bed,” he tells me, and I roll my eyes.   
“Too bad,” I say, “I don’t want to waste the day away in bed.” I struggle to sit up as I speak, and he shifts to help me up, pouting as he does. It shouldn’t be attractive, such an insolent look on the face of a grown man, but my mind betrays me.   
“I’ll kiss you again when we’re not in bed,” I say, “else it will feel all too backwards. Having our first kiss already in bed together seems a little risque, doesn’t it?” 

We enter the kitchen just as Thalia is leaving for the day, and she looks us over amused while she does her sandal straps up.   
“The overseer is back, isn’t he?” she asks Costis but doesn’t wait for an answer, “so you and Kamet will be off having fun while I’m working all day, won’t you?”   
Costis laughs at her, tells her that she is entirely correct, and that we would make sure to tell her all about how indulgently lazy we were when we saw her again in the evening.   
She made a rude gesture with her hands, and then left. Costis made us breakfast. When his father appeared moments after we had began eating, he got back up to serve him as well.   
The three of us talk about our plans for the day, Costis’ father is finishing up with the last of the paper work in the morning, and then going into town to visit a friend. Costis suggests that the two of us pack a lunch and walk out to a clearing he likes by the river on the far side of town, and I agree easily, thinking that this means we will get to be alone. I offer to help Costis’ father with his paperwork before we leave, but he waves my offer away and tells me that I ought to get some more time outside while the weather is so beautiful. 

Costis packs us cheese scones and cured ham, and a bag of dried berries and nuts, as well as a skin of watered wine. I ask what I can carry, and he tosses me a blanket and a couple of pieces of toweling. I tie the towels up in the blanket and sling it over my shoulder while Costis puts his sandals on.   
“It feels a bit like we’re off on our journey again, doesn’t it?” I say, thinking that even in the Mede, Costis carried the heavier of our gear as well.   
“I hope not,” Costis says, “if we have to run for our lives, or get attacked I am going to be very put out.”   
We call goodbye to his father and make our way out into the sunshine. 

We don’t talk much on the way to the river, the both of us enjoying the bright sun and the easy walk. Occasionally Costis would point out some building, or landmark, and I would acknowledge it, and then we would continue on in easy silence. I felt like we were both waiting, as if neither of us could start another conversation until the one from last night was finished, and we couldn’t continue that one until we were secluded. It wasn’t so much that I felt I needed privacy as a rule to talk about my emotions, although it is prefered, it was more than it was somewhat embarrassing to know that what we had just begun had been thought a fact for a long time already. I would absolutely prefer not to let Costis’ family know that I hadn’t realised I was his partner. 

We walk along the river for sometime before we reach the clearing Costis is looking for. It’s at a curve in the river, a small sandy beach like area backing onto a large scrub of trees. The river is wider here, the curve having carved out more of the sand so it’s shallower and a little slower as well.   
I throw the blanket down just up from the sand, on the more solid grassy ground, and then throw myself down onto it. Costis kneels next to me, pulling out the berries and nuts and then putting his satchel to one side, pinning the blanket down with it to stop the edge from flipping up in the faint breeze.   
I helped myself to a handful of the scroggin and smiled up at him awkwardly, very aware now that we were about to have a possibly difficult conversation. I wonder if we could avoid it all completely if I just pushed him down onto the blanket now and climbed on top of him. I could suggest we just act as if we have, as he and his family thought, been romantically involved for a while now, and just add in kissing as well. I know that’s not what I really want, though. If I can’t talk to him about it I know I will never feel truly secure in it.   
“That comment your father made,” I said, “about son in laws. He thinks we will get married?”   
“He… likes you a lot,” Costis replied.   
“So,” I say, “do you also think we will get married?”   
If it wasn’t for my own abashed expression I think I would have been very amused by Costis’.  
He shuffles a little, moving off of his knees to sit with his legs out in front of him, and then reaches to take my hand in his.  
“I like you a lot as well,” he says slowly, “but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. Especially as we have only just gotten onto the same page.”   
I look down at my hand in his, think about how right it felt every time he held me.   
“Well I wouldn’t be against it,” I say, “although not immediately, obviously. I do not have such a wealth of experience in matters...like this, but I do know that I want it.”   
“We can go slowly,” Costis agrees, “but… yes. That is what I want as well.”   
I look away, biting my lip, “Not too slowly,” I say to the blurry river, “I think the both of us have been waiting for too long already.”  
His voice is quiet, and still gentle, but there’s a roughness as he say, “I would wait much longer for you if I had to.”   
I shake my head, let my shoulders relax as I turn back to face him, “You don’t have to. But tell me, how long have you been waiting?”   
He chuckles, lifts his other hand to brush his knuckles against my cheeks. “You remember the night you told me the story of Immakuk and Ennikar and the Queen of the Night?” he said, a small smile on his face. I did, of course. “You always told the stories so beautifully,” he said, “I was so impressed to hear that they were your own translations. I liked you well enough before then, but I think that night changed something.”  
“So you’ve been pining for me since then?” I ask him, teasing, and he slips his hand down the side of my face and tweaks my earlobe.   
“I don’t think I started to pine until the Taymets. I’m not sure why, I felt a lot closer to you, I wanted to let you know but I didn’t think it was a good idea.”   
“Why not?” I ask, “I don’t think I would have turned you down.”  
“Well,” he says, “that’s a comfort.” He shrugs a little, then helps himself to one of the nuts still in my open palm. “If I had told you how I felt, we would have been trapped together for far too long in a very uncomfortable situation if you hadn’t responded positively.”   
I suppose that was sensible. But also we were probably a little off topic.   
“What are we then?” I ask him, “Would you say we are lovers? Partners? A couple?”   
“Any of those work for me,” Costis replies, “I would probably be more likely to introduce you as my partner than my lover, though.”   
“You could always just introduce me with my name,” I point out, possibly a little too snarkily.   
“Yes,” he says, suddenly very abashed, “I’m sorry, of course.”   
I suppose things are a little too new, a little too unsure. I squeeze his hand still in mine tightly, “Costis,” I say, “that was a joke. I’m looking forward to being introduced as your partner. I am also looking forward to introducing you as my partner.” 

The conversation is a lot easier than I had expected it to be, and also a lot longer. We talk until both our stomachs are growling, and our hands are sweating themselves together. Costis laughs as I disdainfully wipe our mingled sweat from my hand onto his shirt. He glances over his shoulder at the water behind us.   
“Would you like a quick dip before we eat?” he suggests, and before I can even feel my own fear, says, “It is very shallow just here, you don’t need to swim.”   
“Alright then,” I nod, and we both get up, stripping our clothes off and leaving them on the blanket. I follow Costis’ lead and take everything off, assuming that if he is going to be naked, we aren’t going to be stumbled upon. 

The water is fresh and cool, a delight on my sun hot skin, and I wade in happily after Costis until the water reaches my waist. He is dipping down in the water to duck his head under, and when he straightens up again, he shakes his head so droplets fly from his hair and hit my warm skin. I yell and splash him, which is a terrible move because he splashes me back. We chase each other round in the shallow water for a few moments, both of us quickly become drenched, and I think about just a few days ago when we’d been splashing each other with the washing jug. I wonder if he had expected me to kiss him after I had pinned up up against the wall. I stumble on a loose rock in the bed of the river, and Costis stops splashing me to catch me by the arm instead. My toes hurt from kicking it, but there’s no blood, and the cool water eases the pain quick enough. I grip his arm tightly to hold him still, and then splash him full in the face.   
He gapes at me, water cascading down his face, and then hooks his leg round my ankles and tips me fully into the water. Even though I know very well that there is no way I am going to drown in such shallow water, I still panic a little initially as I scramble to hold onto him as I fall. My head doesn’t even go under the water, but I glare at him reproachfully, a little hurt. I think he must have realised his mistake even as he made it, because he is already kneeling down next to me in the water, his apology obvious on his face.   
“You absolute louse,” I splutter, and he holds his hands up, chagrined.   
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I did not think.”  
I am a little more embarrassed at how panicked I got over such a small thing than anything else, and I don’t really need such a sincere apology. I do not think we will get very far if I insist on Costis treating me with such caution. I huff at him and fold my arms in mock offense.   
“I think you will have to make it up to me, then,” I tell him, and he raises his eyebrows. 

“Oh?” he says, “And how will I do that?”   
I lean forwards then, content that, even if I was scared just moments before, he would never purposefully panic me. I press my lips to his, both of us slick with water, cup his jaw between my hands. He receives me open mouthed and very willing. This is a much more satisfying kiss than the one we had shared just this morning, and as soon as it is over - in seconds though it feels like much longer - I press forwards to kiss him again before he can pull away. Not that I think he is going to pull away. He’s wrapping his arms around my waist, and pulling me through the water until we are chest to chest, tipping his head to kiss me more deeply, and it is me who pulls away, suddenly overwhelmed with it all. I want it all far too much. I don’t pull away far, just enough that our lips part, and then I duck my head down, press my forehead against his jaw.   
“Is this more or less risque than kissing in bed?” I ask, and he lets out a burst of laughter. He lifts one hand to stroke through my hair, his wet skin catching on my short locks.  
“We are less dressed,” he points out, “but not in the most private spot.”   
“It’s private enough,” I say, and then, before I end up kissing him again, “we should have lunch.”   
He agrees, and stands up to wade out of the water and collect our towels. I sit a moment longer in the cool water, hoping the temperature will calm me down a little, then stand up awkwardly to follow him out. As soon as my feet are on the dry sand, he tosses me a towel, and I very gratefully wrap it around my waist, leaving my upper torso and my hair to dry by themselves. I go and sit on the edge of the blanket, and watch Costis. He is standing near the blanket, tipped at the waist, rubbing his hair dry, and I take the opportunity to look him over again without being caught staring.   
Everything about him is large, and quite hairy. If I was being unkind I might say he looked like a bear. I would have to be unkind and a liar then, though. The majority of his skin is tanned a deep golden brown, save for a small portion of him, from his hips to his knees, which is still pale. The hair on his arms, his legs, and his chest is very light, bleached from hours in the sun, but the hair trailing down from his navel is darker, and stands out against his pale thighs. I swallow heavily and lift my gaze as Costis lowers his towel and looks at me. He seems amused that I have so neglected my hair, and points out that it’ll drip on the blanket.   
I say he ought to have brought more towels, because I am currently unwilling to unwrap the first towel from my waist, and Costis laughs, then blushes, then laughs some more.   
He is still standing as bare as the day he was born, and when he shakes his towel out I think he is going to cover himself, but instead he strides over to me, crouches by my side, and covers my head with it. 

I reach up to yank it off, but he is quicker, and bats my hands away.   
“I’m just going to dry your hair,” he tells me, doing just that, and I relent. Truthfully, no one ought to get turned on by having their head scrubbed at with rough toweling.   
By the time he finally sits down next to me, wrapping the very damp towel around his waist, I am sitting very awkwardly. I know he knows, but he is very intent on pulling out of lunch from his satchel. He passes me the wine skin, and I uncap it and take a swig straight from it. I wonder if I can say we have been partners since Attolia, seeing as everybody thought that we were, or maybe even since Medea, since we both wanted to be. Or if I had to take our starting point from today, now it had been agreed upon by both of us. 

I am not so worried that he will think I am easy, if I move too quickly. I am worried that I need more time for the fact that this is real to properly sink in. I know what I want, and I want it now, but if I am already overwhelming myself just by kissing him I don’t think it’s wise to go any further yet, even if I do want him so much I am aching just looking at him. 

He rests his hand on my knee, stirs me from my thoughts. “What’s bothering you?” he asks, pointedly not looking at my lap. I shake my head and reach for a scone. I take a bite of it before I answer.   
“I know I said you didn’t have to wait anymore,” I say, “but I think some things will have to wait a while longer.”   
He nods, grabs a scone for himself.   
“I told you I was willing to wait, and I meant it,” he tells me firmly, squeezes my thigh, “we go as slow as we need.”   
I kiss him again here, I don’t care if it’s unwise. I feel full to bursting with appreciation and affection for him, and I don’t think I am capable of expressing it properly through words. He kisses me back gently, but not carefully, and I’m glad. I want him to be free with his affection, just as I want to be free with mine. When we pull away again I am smiling foolishly.   
“So,” he says, “I vote that we don’t tell my family about this...misunderstanding.”   
“Do you think they would be more amused or horrified? And at you or me?” I ask, shifting so I can lean against his side, and he lifts his arm to wrap around my shoulders.   
“Timos will be horrified. Thalia would think it hysterical. I think my father wouldn’t believe it. And they would definitely blame it on me. Thalia is always telling me I need to use my words more.”   
“Thalia’s right,” I point out. 

By the time we make it back to the farmhouse, it’s early evening and we are both heavy and warm with the sun we soaked in all day. We splashed around more in the water after we had eaten, and Costis had persuaded me to dunk my head under to get used to the feeling while we were in shallow water. After a few times, he suggested I open my eyes as the water was remarkably clear, and I did, though I think my eyesight is not up for underwater gazing. After we had exhausted ourselves in the water, we’d spread out on our blanket, and napped in the sun. I think we were both a little sun scorched, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. 

Dinner that night was a raucous affair, the overseer had been invited to dinner, as well as his wife and children, and several of the field hands, and I think all of Costis’ cousins and uncles and aunts. We ate at tables set outside, with chickens occasionally pecking at our feet and being chased off again by small children. I talked to several of Costis’ cousins, a few I had already met and talked to briefly, a few I met that night. I mostly listened to their conversations though, almost amused by their constant bickering, and very amused by Costis’ whispered commentary in my ear. At some point during the evening, Costis was roped into a ball game by a handful of his younger cousins, they tried to persuade me to join in as well, I refused as gently as I could, but promised to watch. While I stood by watching, one of his aunts came to stand next to me, holding a sleeping toddler. A few moments later, one of the younger girls, I think it must have been her daughter, ran out from the game and insisted that she join in as well. The sleeping child was deposited in my arms, and then the aunt ran out to join in with her daughter.   
I have held children before, I spent a lot of time as a younger slave, helping look after the slave children while I was not needed or in lessons. Still, I had never been expected to be very good at it, and I held this child very nervously. I was terrified it would wake up and realise I was not its mother, and then it would surely scream and everybody would look at me. Everybody was already looking at me a lot more than I would have liked, although I knew it was merely because I was new to them, and Costis’ partner no less, but I felt very self-conscious. I think this anxiety must have been quite obvious, because Thalia appeared by my side and nodded at the sleeping child weighing me down.   
“Is that Illana’s kid?” she asked me, and I shrugged.   
“Is Illana the one out in the field with Costis?” I asked, nodding in that direction, and Thalia turned to look, and then nodded.   
“Yes, you’re holding another Timos,” she said, and I laughed, then quieted quickly for fear of waking the boy.   
“How did you end up holding him if you didn’t even know who he belonged to?” she asked me, very amused, and I rolled my eyes.   
“I think I have a very helpful look about me. She just turned to me, raised her eyebrows, and deposited him.”   
“That does sound like Illana,” Thalia said, smirking, and then, her smirk suddenly very coy, “you look good holding a child.”   
I spluttered.   
“A little nervous maybe,” Thalia continued airily, “but it’s a very sweet picture. I’m sure Costis would agree,” she added pointedly, and I sighed.   
I wonder if Costis and I hadn’t had our very revealing conversation about feelings and what not just earlier, if I would still have not realised that Thalia thought us together.   
“Well,” I say, “so long as it doesn’t give him any ideas of finding a wife instead.”   
I can feel Thalia looking at me, her gaze is boring into the side of my face, but I obstinately stare out at the ball game. I can’t see much, just blurry shapes, and I certainly can’t pick Costis out, but I want it to seem as if I am watching him.   
“Are you worried about that?” she asks, and I realise she is very serious.   
If it were anyone else I would think they were taking liberties, but this is Costis’ sister, and I know they are close.   
“No,” I say firmly, “but I don’t see any point in coveting something I cannot have.”   
This is a lie. I have always wanted things I couldn’t have. My freedom. Power. Costis. It was only a folly of chance that I had both my freedom and Costis, and I suppose some semblance of power.   
The child shifts a little in my arms, and I tense a little, jiggling it slightly hoping to keep it comfortably asleep. When it doesn’t wake, I look back up at Thalia.   
“Costis has always wanted children,” she says, and I frown a little, look away from her again.   
“We’ve not talked about children,” I say sharply, but that does not put her off. Instead, she puts her hand on my arm and continues.   
“He has always talked about adopting a child,” she says, “if that is something you want, you can have it, Kamet, covet away!”   
I almost feel like telling her that we only truly became partners today, and that it was probably too early to consider children, but - I could already feel my heart yearning for what she was saying. Besides, Costis and I had agreed not to tell them. I could have children with Costis, if I wished it. I could have a family with Costis. 

There is a lot of yelling then, and I realise that the game is coming to a close, and the ruckus is waking baby Timos. I shift him up to rest him against my shoulder, and rub his back as he hiccups himself awake while I squint at the players, trying to tell if they were breaking up and coming back yet.   
“If he starts crying,” I say to Thalia, “will you take him?”   
She laughs at me and agrees, but says, “Only if Timos is not looking - I don’t want to give him any ideas.”   
I turn to look at her accusingly, and she laughs all the more. “And here you are trying to convince me, of all people, to create children. Out of the two of us, who is married?”   
She shrugs, wraps her arms around herself, “I am well aware of my hypocrisy. But I want at least a year of married life before I start popping out children. It’s hard to work while pregnant, and I want to be working as long as I can.”   
I suppose that is sensible enough, but I still frown at her and she still laughs at me.   
Baby Timos is awake, and grumbling against my neck, but he is not wailing, and he does not sound overly upset, so I don’t hand him over to Thalia yet, just keep rocking him, cupping the back of his head gently. I can see the figures moving towards us now, and I smile when they come close enough for me to see Costis grinning at me, a skinny child hanging around his neck, and another caught under his arm. 

I can’t see Timos’ mother yet, but I assume she must be close, so I step forwards towards Costis, suddenly very much wanting him to see me with the child.   
“Is that Timos?” Costis asks, and his voice is so gentle my stomach churns in response. Thalia was certainly correct in saying that Costis wanted children. I nod, Timos yawns.   
“Did you win?” I ask, and Costis laughs, shakes his cousins from his arms, and shrugs.   
“I am not sure, I don’t think any of us really won.” He reaches out with a very dirty hand, and I think belatedly that I ought to tell him not to get me dirty. Instead I stand there smiling stupidly as he brushes my hair back off of my forehead, most likely leaving a dirty smear, and smiles down at me as if I was all he ever wanted. 

I can imagine, just in this moment, that we are already a family. I want to suggest to him that we steal this baby and run away together into the steadily fading sunset, but then Illana returns and I hand Timos back over. The moment doesn’t pass. Costis wraps his arm tightly around my shoulders, and after a second’s hesitation I tip my head up in clear invitation for a kiss, and he presses one softly against the corner of my lips.   
I could have a family with him. 

After everyone has returned to their own houses, and the tables have been cleared away, Costis and I return to our room, and hit our next question.   
“Do you want to push the beds together?” I ask after he shuts the door behind us. I place the lamp on the wardrobe, and watch his face carefully.   
“If you’d like,” he says easily, then turns to look at me, and rolls his eyes. “Of course I want to,” he says, nudges my shoulder.   
“Good,” I say, “you can shift them, then,” and then I lean back against the door and smile at him.   
He shoves me again, gently, and then moves our beds. I’m sure everyone else in the house can probably hear the noise of our furniture being moved, and will wonder why we are suddenly changing things around, but I do not care at all.   
When the beds are pushed together, he quickly strips the blankets off of them, and remakes them for more comfortable cohabitating. When he’s finished, he flops down on top of the covers and stretches out across the both of them.   
“I could get used to having this much space,” he says, grins at me.   
I push myself away from the door and climb onto the bed to sit by his waist, “Too bad,” I say. He slings his arm around me and tugs, and I shift forwards easily until I am lying against him, half across his chest.   
I hook my leg between his, pulling myself closer still, and shift up on my elbows so I can kiss him. It was as if after kissing him for the first time this morning, something had changed, like a faucet had been turned on. I had been very capable of resisting the urge to kiss him up until today, but now that I had it was all I wanted to do. It felt like a very dangerously slippery slope, but again, I did not care. 

We wake the next morning, to the rooster’s crow, and the sound of light rain. Costis is lying as straight as a log, and as large as one as well - he takes up a lot of the bed even when there are two of them. One of his legs is lying crooked, possibly because my leg is lying hooked around it. It doesn’t really matter that he takes up so much room, because I am all but plastered against his side, caught in the circle of his arms, my face pressed into his chest. I had thought, before we had fallen asleep, that I wouldn’t be a very cuddly sleeper. I had always slept alone, and enjoyed my space, and yet - here I was - like a very grumpy mollusk. Grumpy only because Costis was attempting to pry me off him so he could get up, and I was rejecting this idea.  
“Kamet,” he said, even his exasperation fond, “do you want breakfast or not?”   
I did want breakfast. I very reluctantly released him, but didn’t move to get up as he sat up and got out of our bed. Once he’d slipped his shirt on, he turned to look at me still sprawled in the blankets, and reached over to nudge my side. I twitched away from his poking fingers, then caught his forearm and tugged him back down.  
I’m sure he could have very easily resisted and stayed balanced and upright, but he allowed himself to be pulled back down towards me.   
“You’re terrible,” he tells me sincerely, then kisses me.   
He does manage to pry me out of bed just a few minutes later, and then not long after that we’re in the kitchen with Thalia and Timos and breakfast. 

Thalia is suggesting Costis takes me out into the next town, where they are having a fair. Costis thinks it is a brilliant idea, I think it sounds like a lot of excuses to spend money and energy on wrestling our way through crowds. But, Costis look excited, and I’m willing to step a little out of my comfort zone for his excitement. Anyway, it might be nice, and I did want to see more of Costis’ home. We didn’t pack a lunch to take with us, Costis said we’d buy something at the fair, which was again, I thought, a waste of money, but I had money to spare, and I suppose he must have some to spare because he didn’t seem at all worried about it. I thought I ought to ask him about it at some point. If we were to eventually be married, as everyone seemed to think we would, I would need to know more about our finances. My own, I was sure, would be enough to keep us in all we wanted, and I would be happy to provide for him, thanks to the king, but I wouldn’t want Costis to feel dependant on me. 

We wait for the light rain to lessen before we leave. It does not take long, and the rain had been light enough that the puddles it left were not deep, the roads not muddy.  
I asked about it as we walked out of town. We weren’t the only ones going to the fair apparently, we joined a steady trail of people, some walking alone, some with what looked to be their whole families, others were couples like us, holding hands as they walked. A few looked as if they were going to hawk their wares. I thought about holding Costis’ hand as we walked, but the sun was warm and I didn’t want to get sweaty.   
“The king paid me an … overwhelming amount, for my trip to and from Medea,” Costis said in reply to my question. “I gave most of it to my father-”   
I had guessed this already, I had seen the figure written in his father’s accounts while I had been helping him, and figured that it must have come from Costis. The dates all aligned, and I could see nowhere else it might have come from. I nodded.   
“-The rest I left securely at the castle.” he glanced sidelong at me and then said, “My normal pay is enough for daily life, but with the savings I have now, I have enough to purchase a small house.”   
I take his hand after all.   
“Are you implying that you would like to buy a small house with me?” I ask him, and he laughs, shrugs.   
“If you are amenable,” he says, “although I don’t know where we are going next. I did not think you would want to stay in Attolia.” 

He is right. I liked Attolia, much more than I had expected to, and I very almost wanted to stay there and make a life there, but. I didn’t think I would be able to, at least not yet. It felt too much like I could not leave while I was there, even though I knew that wasn’t the whole truth. 

“I wouldn’t -” I pause, I don’t want to promise anything I will not be able to deliver on. “I don’t want to take you away from your home again,” I tell him, “and I don’t want to leave you. It’s true, I didn’t want to stay in Attolia, but I suppose if the incentive is right-” I shrugged.   
Costis stops walking then, which causes someone behind us to bump into him. There are a few grumbling comments, which he ignores, and most people simply flow around us. 

“I would leave again if I were with you,” he tells me. “I will go anywhere, so long as my king doesn’t insist I stay,” he adds the last part with something akin to a grimace. I know it’s not because he doesn’t like his king, or even that he resents being so important to his king. I think it is because he is acknowledging the fact that it is not exactly romantic to have to footnote lovesprung declarations with practicalities like this. 

“Well then,” I say, squeeze his hand tight in mine, “maybe we will have an Attolian house, maybe not. But we will be together.” 

The fair is just as crowded as I had feared, but I find I don’t mind so much. We weave in between stalls, grasping hands tightly, half out of necessity so as not to lose each other in the crowd, half just because we could. Every so often Costis sees someone he knows, or someone who knows him, and we stop and have almost identical conversations. When it is someone Costis knows it usually runs like this - 

Costis! I haven’t seen you around these parts in a while!  
I’m just visiting, my sister was recently married.  
Oh yes I heard, to Timos from across the valley, yes?  
Yes.  
And who is your friend?  
This is Kamet, my partner.  
(Here they might mention how short I am)  
Maybe we will see each other around again, yes?  
I hope so!

When it is someone that knows Costis, it goes more like this-

Is that you, Costis!  
Oh hello, it is.   
You’ve gotten so big! You look just like your father! (To me) I knew him when he was below my knee, you know.   
Are you back to help your father on the farm? You know he needs someone to take over managing his part soon.   
Thalia will do that, I’m only here to visit.   
Oh of course, I heard she was just recently married, give her my love!  
I will, thank you. 

After these ones depart, Costis would turn to look at me, shake his head, and admit in a low whisper that he had no idea who they were. 

We eat lunch from a few different stalls - first from a pastry vendor - large flakey sweet meats with almonds and walnuts. Then we each bought a cup of spicy broth, it made Costis break out in sweat, so I drank most of his as well, and we went in a quick search for bread to wipe away the burning from his mouth. After the bread we conspired to go back to the pastry vendor, but got distracted by a small cake stall on the way and bought two exceedingly fluffy muffins, stuffed to bursting with blueberries. 

As well as the food, we had found some trinket stalls that had drawn Costis and me both in. A few places had some elegant pens, which, after some persuasion from Costis, I bought for myself. I stopped at a jewellery stand as well, and together we picked out a nice pair of earrings for Thalia. I had realised, after one of the many people we bumped into mentioned Thalia’s wedding, that I had never given her a gift. Costis insisted I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I wasn’t quite sure what to get Timos, but eventually settled on a small watch, Thalia was always complaining that he was too early for everything. After I had bought gifts for the two of them, I felt it was necessary to buy Costis’ father something as well, and so we sought out a liquor seller and bought him a somewhat expensive bottle. 

As we were winding down, and starting to strongly consider walking home, we were beguiled into another jewellery stall. It’s walls were strung with brightly coloured beads which had caught my eye as we walked past it, and the owner, noticing that my attention had been caught, had called to us.   
“Love birds!” he called, pointing at me, “I have a special deal for love birds!”   
I, petulantly, attempt to turn away, but Costis catches me by the elbow and grins at me. “No harm in looking,” he says, and I let him lead us to the stall. I have never really been particularly interested in jewellery for myself. I felt comfortable in expensive and even well embroidered clothing, but jewellery still felt a step too presumptuous, as if I were taking liberties that were not mine. I thought maybe a bracelet, if it were plain, or an earring, certainly not a necklace. 

It is beautiful jewellery, I have to admit that at least. The stall owner smiles at me encouragingly, and he looks very familiar, but I cannot place him. I feel like I am looking at a friend who is wearing a surprisingly good disguise. He waves our attention over the racks of jewel adorned chains, heavy pendants, spun amber bracelets, carved silver rings. I am not really seeing anything that I like, or at least nothing I want on my own body, when another, larger man joins the first. He too looks eerily familiar, and again I cannot place it. He has a thick beard, and such heavy eyebrows I can barely make out his eyes, and he is carrying another tray of jewellery.   
“Not seeing anything you like?” he asks me, in tones heavily accented, but by what I do not know.   
I shake my head politely, and the first man laughs, “Of course, I forgot about this tray, thank you my dear.”   
Almost as if in response to the exchange in front of us, Costis steps a little closer to me, places his hand on my lower back, smiles up at the stall owners.   
The tray is entirely rings. Gold ones, silver ones, carved wood, carved bone, obsidian, ivory. I glance up at Costis. He is staring down at the tray as in entranced, and as I watch, reaches out to brush his fingers across two rings in the centre of the tray. They are identical but for their sizes, two pale gold bands with etching on them I cannot make out. Costis glances up at the two men, asks, “May I?” and at their nods, picks up the smaller ring and hands it to me so I can make out the decoration more clearly. On the outer surface of the ring was a flurry of lines, which after staring at for a few seconds became clearly obvious as map markings. The lines were roads, and as I turned the ring in my fingers I could see the carved mountain figures, the slightly thicker lines that were the rivers. I couldn’t make out if the map depicted a real place or not, so I twisted it again to read the loose script on the inside of the band.   
-Great was their love and greatly did it sustain them -   
I glanced up, first at Costis, and then at the stall owners who were very pointedly not looking at us.   
“The larger one is the same?” I ask, and receive a nod in return. I am beginning to realise why I think I recognise these men, and as I slip the smaller ring onto my finger, my suspicions grow stronger.   
“We’re getting these,” I say to Ennikar, then look to Costis, who nods, and picks up the second ring. I take it from his hand and place it on his finger, then turn back to the stall and ask how much we owe them.   
“They are perfect fits,” the bearded man replies, raising his eyebrows so that I can see he is indeed missing one eye, “they are yours just for that.”   
I think Costis is about to protest, but instead he says, “I was not expecting to see you in Attolia,”   
Immakuk smiles at that, says, “Most people do not expect to see us at all.”   
I am about to speak now, though I don’t know what to say - but there is a sudden noise behind us and we both turn to see what it is.   
A few stalls over, a travelling magician is swallowing swords and breathing out fire, and a lady’s shawl had caught fire. Even as we realised what had happened, it had been doused, and the show had continued. We turned back to the stall, knowing already that it would be gone, but still feeling the shock as we faced an empty section.   
Costis reached to take my hand, his thumb rubbing against the ring on it, “The rings are still here, though,” he says, “that is enough.” 

It isn’t until we are halfway home that I realise the obvious question.   
“Is this a promise ring?” I ask, holding my hand up, “Or a ring of more serious commitment?”   
“We have been together for two whole days now,” Costis says with mock seriousness, “it is probably about time we settled down.”   
I elbow him, then put my arm around his waist.   
“Is this a message from the gods that we may as well just marry already?” I ask, “Are gods usually this direct?”   
“I have heard some more direct messages from the gods,” Costis says wryly, “but I think this is less a question of what the gods want of us, and more of what we want.”   
I look at him, “So?” I say, “Is this what you want?”   
He is silent for a long moment. The air is thick with the chatter of others returning from the fair, and more people still on their way to the fair. When he does speak, it’s quiet.   
“It is,” he says, then, “you don’t think it’s too soon?”   
“It is absolutely too soon,” I say, “but I don’t care.”   
We yet again interrupt the flow of foot traffic by coming to a sudden halt in the road.   
“Is that a so then?” he asks me, gripping me by the shoulders.   
“So it is,” I reply. 

I have the rest of our walk back to his house to regret my decision, but I do not in the slightest. We are walking in silence, I think the both of us are somewhat too overwhelmed with the enormity of our day to speak, and I take the time to go over it all. My anxiety is screaming at me that there is no way any of this will work out, it is too easy, too lovely, Costis is too beautiful, too free. I quite blessedly do not believe a word of it. If I had been unwilling to admit even to myself, the love I felt for him in Medea, I was willing now. Had been willing for a while, despite not realising he shared my love. We have known each other for over a year now, and I have known plenty of people who have committed themselves to each other after a much shorter period. Although admittedly, most of them were not partnerships of love. I thought of Immakuk and Ennikar in Medea, of how they had directed our paths, how things had always worked out. I did not think they would put us on a path that was destined to fail. Costis’ hand was hot in mine, comforting, solid, sweaty. 

We are on the path leading to his house when I break the silence.   
“Children,” I say, and he looks at me bemused.   
“What of them?”   
“Thalia says you have always wanted them,”   
“Thalia says a lot of things,” he replies, “but yes I have. Although I am not as wedded to having children as I am to wanting to wed you.”   
“Don’t be so willing to give up on what you want for my sake,” I say, and he shakes his head.  
“Alright,” he says, “are you against having children?”   
“You know I can’t actually produce them myself, yes?” I tease, and he elbows me. I amend my answer. “I am not against it. I think I would quite like it, though not yet. I don’t think I am ready yet.”   
He nods, “I don’t think I’m ready yet either,” he agrees. 

I stop us again a few metres away from the door.   
“Costis,” I say, and he nods, “just the other day I said that some things had to wait - they still do. I know that sounds quite contradictory now that we are … engaged-”   
He breaks into my fumbling words by cupping my cheek, “Trust me when I say this,” he tells me, “I will wait. I do not mind waiting. The only thing this changes is that now we will have to tell my family we’re getting married.”   
I appreciate him a little more with each passing moment.   
“You don’t think they will think it too soon?” I ask, not at all worried, and he shakes his head, smiling. 

We don’t announce our plans right away. I have a sneaky desire to make them wait, wait until they notice our matching rings. They aren’t flashy, immediately demanding attention, in fact they have a sort of quality about them that makes them seem almost as if they have always been on our fingers.   
Over dinner we tell them about the fair, about the food, the performers, the music, the stalls. We hand out the trinkets we had bought for fun, and then the gifts we had bought for them.   
Costis’ father wants to immediately open the bottle we give him, but Costis stills him with a laugh, suggests we could open a cheaper bottle and he ought to save this one for a more exciting occasion.   
We open a cheap bottle and Thalia puts in her earrings and kisses both Costis and I on the cheeks. We are well into the bottle when I stand to help Timos clear away some of the dishes, and as I pass him a plate he reaches out to take my hand instead.   
“This is a beautiful piece,” He says quietly, turning my hand and the plate in my hand as well so he can see the ring easier. “Did you buy it at the fair as well?” he asks and I nod. His eyes widen then, and he glances from my hand to Costis, craning his neck to get a view of Costis’ hand but it is hidden below the table.   
“And did you plan on telling us?” he asks, his voice accusing, but very amused, and Thalia turns around, eyebrows raised.   
“Telling us what? That the both of you are terrible at clearing tables?” she asked pointedly. We had shifted maybe two dishes. Timos looks to me, I look to Costis, Costis looks at his hand, then lifts his hand out to reach for me.   
I press the dish into Timos’ hand and let Costis pull me to his side.   
“Maybe I ought to have asked for your permission first,” I say to his father, Costis snorts beside me, “or at the very least your blessing, but I think we will both have to make do with doing things a little backwards.”   
He is squinting at me as if he is not entirely sure he has the right end of the stick, but he really, really wants it to be the right end of the stick.   
“I don’t think I will be such a good son as Timos, working here on the farm,” I tell him, “but I do promise to keep Costis at least somewhat in line.”   
I watch as the confusion clears from his face and is replaced by a huge grin.   
“You finally gave in, huh?” he asks me jubilantly, slapping the table in delight, “How many times did Costis have to ask before you said yes?”   
Costis snorts again, I am sure he is rolling his eyes.   
“I asked him,” I say primly, “I’ve not had the pleasure of turning him down.”   
He opens the bottle we bought him. I protest but he tells me that if this is not an exciting occasion he’s not sure what would be, and I have to concede. 

By the time we make it to bed that night, it’s no longer that night, and I am entirely exhausted, yet still somehow buzzing. I lie under the blankets as Costis strips off, and listen to my heart beat, I can feel my blood pumping under my skin until I feel as if I am vibrating, and I laugh at how utterly ridiculous I feel.   
Costis gives me a questioning look as he climbs in next to me, and I shake my head.   
“It feels unreal,” I say, “A year ago I would not have even imagined my life looking anything like this. I couldn’t have predicted anything in this scene.”   
“It is a good scene, though, yes?” he asks me, shifting down the bed until he can rest his head against my shoulder. His feet stick off the end of the bed.   
“Of course,” I tell him, firm enough so he knows there’s no room for questioning that. 

We send a message to the castle the next day. I write to Relius, asking him to pass the news on to the king, and Costis writes to Teleus, even if he is the king’s favourite he still has to pass this information onto his captain. 

This is when I realise, or remember, that there is a lot more to marriage than just agreeing upon it, and Thalia is at our heels asking about our wedding plans. Neither of us have wedding plans, and Thalia scoffs at the both of us, sitting across the table from her looking nonplussed.   
I didn’t want any big event, and I certainly didn’t want to be too much the centre of attention. I told them both this, and Thalia threw up her hands and mumbled something about how we were far too suited to each other.   
Costis nodded, suggested we do only the barest of ceremonies, just enough to make it official, we could have a dinner afterwards. Thalia enlists Timos to help persuade us into some a little more fancy, he is aghast that we don’t want a party, but we stay firm, and eventually manage to plan it out without being coerced into too fancy a feast.   
I am very good at planning things, I have even assisted in planning a few small weddings before - all between servants but still. I very carefully thought of the whole event as nothing to do with me so I would not overthink the decisions.   
We decided to wait a week, mostly because the officiate Costis wanted was out of town until then, and also so we had just a little more time for the idea to sink in.   
I didn’t think I was going to change my mind, but there was a small, miniscule, part of me that was quite convinced that Costis would. The day after we planned to be wed was the day we were scheduled to return to the castle, so I thought if things did go badly we would be able to escape the town easily enough. 

 

The day before, a royal messenger on an exhausted looking horse clattered into the courtyard of the house. Costis had told me, after we had sent our letters, that they might take up to a week to arrive at the capital, and I think the messenger must have been sent out the same day the letters had been received. A field hand leads the horse away to be brushed and watered, and Costis and I sit and read the letter while the messenger is being revitalised with tea and cake.   
It’s a very short letter, hardly worth the expense it must have been to send it so quickly and with such pomp.   
It read -

Kamet e dai Annux & Costis Ormentiedes

Felicitations on your recent engagement.   
My wife and I were thrilled to hear of it.  
We wish you the greatest happiness, and look forward to seeing you in the capital again soon. 

 

It is not signed, but it is obvious enough that it is from the king. Even if it had not arrived by royal messenger, we both recognise the king’s square handwriting.

There is another note tucked in, from Relius, this one is signed. 

Kamet,  
I cannot say I am surprised. I assume that you are, however.   
I would ask you to write this down in the official report, but I suppose I will settle from simply hearing the oral version.   
Relius. 

The third note is from Teleus, and is simply what must be the formal acknowledgement expected back, but Costis is pleased to have it.   
“Aris is going to have a fit,” he says suddenly, “I completely forgot. Oh dear gods, he’s going to murder me.”   
I stare at him in consternation, “Oh?”   
“I haven’t told him the news - he will not be pleased to be one of the last to hear it,” he laughs.   
We fetch paper and scrawl a message for the messenger to take back. We do not bother with replies to the king and queen, or even Relius, we will see them soon enough. 

I think about Laela. I think that if I had one person who would be annoyed at me for not telling them immediately, it would have been her, but there was no point in it now. Then I remind myself that I have made new friends. I told Relius, because he is my friend. Still. I am maybe a little quieter than usual that evening. We eat a very small dinner tonight because tomorrow we will be eating far too much food. We are not having a party, per se, but Thalia and her father had decided we would be having an excess of food and the entire family over to eat it.   
We’re chivvied off to bed earlier than usual, Timos suggests we ought to sleep in separate rooms tonight, but Thalia calls him a hypocrite, and we go back to our room.

“Are you wanting me to take your name?” I ask him as we get changed. I’m pulling my shirt over my head as I speak, so I don’t see Costis’ expression.   
“I hadn’t thought of that,” he says honestly.   
“Well,” I say, “Your father only has the two children, and only you to carry on his name-”  
Costis shakes his head, “My father is not overly attached to our family name. Besides, his brothers and their children all share our name. It’s not going to disappear if I don’t foist it on you.”   
“So,” I say, “that’s a no, then?”   
He sits on the edge of our bed, smiles at me, “I quite like Kamet e dai Annux,” he says, he’s teasing, but I grin at him. 

 

The wedding is over so quickly I feel I could have blinked and missed it.   
It had taken us a while to decide whether or not we wanted the ceremony in the small temple or not, it wasn’t a temple dedicated to any gods I felt particularly attached to, but it was the easiest place to go, and we could pay our respects to our own gods later. I wanted Shesmegah watching over me. 

I watched Costis’ face as he watched the priestess speak official ancient words over us. I do not see doubt, there is no hesitancy when he repeats the invocations, no shadow in his eyes as he turns to me, smiling, presses his lips to mine.   
I know I say the words as well, but I can only remember Costis saying them.  
Our rings are blessed, our lives are blessed, our commitment is blessed, our kiss is blessed, and then we are out in the sun and I have a father, a sister, a brother, and a husband, and all of them are trying to kiss me at once. 

Thalia wins because her elbows are sharpest. 

There are absolutely too many people who want to welcome me into the family, who want to tell me embarrassing things about Costis, who want to ask questions about our future children, who want to press wine into my hand and more food onto my plate. Every ten minutes or so, Costis reappears at my side after being dragged away by various family members, squeezes my hand and rolls his eyes, mumbles something about Thalia swearing this wouldn’t be a party. Eventually I refuse to let go of his hand, and we wander around as one being instead so I don’t have to answer a million questions by myself. I am enjoying myself, though it’s a little difficult to remember this while I am also so overwhelmed by attention and people. I don’t know most of them well enough to tell who they are until they are right in front of me and speaking, and it’s almost as if it’s a new surprise every time someone addresses me.   
We sneak out while the party is still going. Or at least we attempt to sneak. People are paying too much attention for us to leave without notice. We only get away with leaving at all because everyone assumes we have wedding night duty activities we need to get onto, and our departure is heralded by several somewhat inappropriate bids of good luck, mostly from Costis’ aunts and uncles. 

I wait until our door is firmly shut behind us, “Do they really think we’ve not… consummated our relationship already?”   
“Gods only know,” Costis replies, leaning heavily against the door. He looks entirely exhausted, but he’s smiling, and the line of his shoulders is relaxed.   
“I mean,” I shrug, “they would be right, but that’s beside the point.”   
He looks so very young, everything about his expression is softness as he reaches out to me to pull me flush against him. He drapes his arms over my shoulders and I rest my hands against his chest.   
“I love you,” he says quietly, and I realise that we’d not said those words to each other yet.   
“I know,” I say, “I wouldn’t have married you otherwise,” I grin up at him, a bit love drunk but also reasonably wine drunk as well.   
“You’re a fiend,” he says, then tightens his arms around me to pull me in for a kiss. I hook my fingers in the collar of his shirt as I kiss him back, then step backwards, still kissing him, tugging him over to our bed. He pushes me down on top of the blankets, then climbs on top of me and immediately tucks his face into the crook of my shoulder.   
“Monsters of hell,” I grumble, pushing at his shoulders, “I think you are must be made of lead, you are so heavy.” I shove at him until he rolls off of me, and I roll with him so I am on top, straddling his waist, and tucking my feet in under his thighs.   
“I love you,” I say, “even when you are squashing me flat.”   
He blinks up at me, then reaches up to take me by the chin. I think he is going to pull me down for another kiss, but he just holds my face and looks at me.   
“What?” I say, as bashful as if I were the fantasy blushing bride.   
“You have changed so much from when I first met you,” he says softly, “it has been like watching a flower unfurl, the moon wax, or the sun rise. Every passing moment you become more glorious.”   
“You’re drunk,” I tell him, loving the sweet warmth coursing in my chest.   
He nods and says, “I am, but that doesn’t mean I’m not speaking the truth. I am drunk and you are everything I have ever wanted and more.”   
“You know,” I say, “if you had spun this poetry out at me earlier we might have been married even sooner.”   
He laughs at me and I kiss him, kiss him until he is panting and open under my lips and his hands are tangled in my tunic, and I can feel his blood pounding in his wrists, his mouth, his groin. I pull away. Rest my forehead against his so our breath mixes together. My mind is so tangled with affection that I can’t call up any of my own words to convey how I feel, so I pull out someone else’s poetry to speak for me. I had read a lot of poetry in my free time, memorising it carefully in case I never got to read it again, and now I spoke Meleager of Gadara’s words, hushed against the sound of Costis’ breath. 

“Summer had all but brought the fruit  
to its perilous end:  
and the summer sun and that boy’s look  
did their work on me.  
Night hid the sun  
Your face consumes my dreams.  
Others feel sleep as feathered rest;  
mine but in flame refigures  
your image lit in me.”

He makes a noise that tugs at my heart, and then tips his head up again to kiss me until our lips are swollen with it.   
“I am going to have to insist,” he mumbles, his lips brushing mine even as he speaks, “that you speak poetry to me more often.”  
“Only when I am overcome with affection,” I tell him.   
“So, whenever I compliment you then?” he teases, and I bite his lip. 

We have been able to hear the party still going on outside the house and outside our room this whole time, but it is suddenly a little too quiet outside, and Costis stills underneath me.   
“I did not lock the door,” he says.  
“Ah,” I say, “is it tradition?”   
“No,” he shakes his head, “I just have awful uncles who think they are funny.” 

The door is flung wide open then, I suppose they had thought we had had enough time to validate our marriage. Someone calls out that we’re very behind if we haven’t even taken our tunics off yet, and another one suggests we don’t know what to do.   
Costis catches me round the waist as he sits upright, bringing me with him, then strips his tunic off in one easy movement.   
“I will very happily remove all of you bodily,” he says, shifting to draw attention to his muscles so no one could doubt he couldn’t, “but I would prefer to be paying my attentions to my husband. Just because you are in and out in half a minute, Saburo, does not mean that the rest of us are as bad at pleasuring their partners.”   
I think Saburo is one of his cousins, and I can hear him shout to refute it while everyone else hoots with laughter. Costis moves to stand up, and there is a kerfuffle in the doorway while some of the smaller cousins attempt to escape quickly before they can be pitched out. 

I sit there serenely, not even bothering to try and make out the faces in the doorway, too tipsy and too full of kisses to care about them. Costis closes the door sharply behind the horde, having only carefully stepped on a few feet, and then draws the bolt loudly to let them know they were not getting in a second time. I can hear noises of disappointment, and laughing, and then the party begins again. 

Costis looks at me, shakes his head, “I am not sure what exactly they hope to get out of that,” he says, “the best they could hope for is catching us in the act, but then they would all have to face their untimely deaths in the morning.”   
“Drunk men always think their plans are clever,” I reply, and reach out a hand to my own drunk man. “Come back to bed, and take my tunic off me.” 

He obliged easily. Once my shirt is off, and his hands are rubbing up and down my bare sides, I reach down to undo his breeches. I have a lot of practice at undressing other people, I could probably do it with my eyes closed, so I do close my eyes as I lean forward and kiss him more.   
By the time we are both undressed, I am laughing against his mouth, and he pulls away to raise his eyebrows at me, “Should I be worried that you find my naked body so amusing?” he asks, and I pinch his side.  
“No,” I say, “I am just imagining the terror you would have inflicted upon your cousins had they actually seen anything we didn’t want them to see.”   
He laughs as well, then says, “I would have hunted them down, and then fed them all raw caggi.”   
“Yes,” I say, “that is truly a threat more frightening than death.” 

He presses me down against the bed, then tugs the blankets up to pull them over our bare legs, and shifts to lie half on top of me, his legs trapping mine. His arm is slung over my chest, his hand resting lightly on my cheek to turn my face to him.   
“I love your body,” I say sincerely, lift my arm so I can trail my hand down the side of his ribs, over his hips. “Naked, and clothed,” I add, “it is beautiful enough that if I ever become a poet of my own right, I think I could write an entire book simply about your torso.”   
“An entire book dedicated to my body?” Costis laughed, “You flatter me.”   
“I am flattering you more than you realise,” I shoot back, “I said a book for your torso. I would have to write an entire series of books to encapsulate the way I feel about your face, at least another book for your legs, and that behind,” I add, grabbing the arse in question and squeezing it, “I think Eugenides sent you to bring me back from Medea because he knew I’d want to walk behind you the entire way.”   
He’s laughing freely, shaking his head, “If you don’t stop soon I will need to get a new helmet, mine won’t fit if you keep inflating my head.”  
I protest my innocence, “I am only speaking the truth!” and he kisses me hard.   
“If I wasn’t so aware of your mortality,” Costis says, “I would mistake you for a god, so great is your beauty.”   
I shove him. “This isn’t a competition for who can say the sweetest thing,” I tell him. 

We fall asleep while the party is still going. I think maybe we might have been expected to make another appearance after our assumed consummation, but there was no way I was going to untangle myself from Costis’ body and go back out there. Anyway, if there was no consummation, there was no after. We fall asleep to the sound of laughter and music, and each other’s breath. 

We leave the following afternoon, unable to say when we will visit again, but promising that it will be soon. When we leave, Costis’ father hands us a wooden box, tells us to open it when we have a moment to spare, a wedding present. We had asked in the days leading up to our small ceremony not to be given gifts, but he was Costis’ father, my father now, we could not refuse it. Thalia gave us a package of food to take on the trip with us, her gift in lieu of a gift, and I took it gratefully. We left in a trail of tears, mostly mine and Thalia’s, but not only, and boarded the coach that would take us again to the inn I stayed in just a fortnight ago by myself.   
The ride is a lot more comfortable cushioned against Costis’ side, he holds me steady against the constant bump and rattle, and I end up falling asleep quite rapidly. 

When I wake it’s dark, and the coach is pulling up at the inn, Costis is shaking my shoulder gently. I get to meet the innkeeper this time, Costis’ father had sent a message ahead a few days ago, and we are greeted at the door with an over enthusiastic hug. Costis gets his hair ruffled, which he bears remarkably well, and we eat upstairs with the innkeeper and his wife before we go to bed. 

 

We arrive at the castle the following evening, and I suddenly realise that I am not sure where we are supposed to be going. Are we returning to the rooms I had been in before? Is Costis expected to go back to the barracks? Thankfully we were met at the coach by one of the attendants that had been assigned to me earlier, as well as a few of my .  
“I’m to take you both to your rooms,” he announced, “and to let you know you are of course invited to the court dinner tonight, but not to feel obligated after such a long journey.”   
We don’t go back to Nahuseresh’s rooms, but the decor and layout is not that much different. Our luggage is brought in behind us - not much at all, my two bags, and Costis’ one bag, as well as the box from his father. We had not opened it yet.   
There is a note on the desk, and once the attendant has left us again to go wait in the outer chambers, I cross the room to read it.   
It is from the king. I think most other people would be flattered to receive a handwritten note of welcome from the king, but I was more amused than anything.   
Costis came to stand behind me, and read the note over my shoulder.   
“I’ll see you tonight,” he read out loud, “so you think this means he wants us at the court dinner, or he is going to very suddenly appear behind us and surprise us in our rooms?”   
“The latter,” the king says, doing just that, and I would like to make a note here that I did not jump, but Costis did.   
“My king,” he said, somewhat sourly, and Eugenides smiled pleasantly at him.   
“Your majesty,” I say, “what a pleasant surprise.”   
“Not as much as receiving your letter of engagement was,” he replied to me, then stepped forwards to greet us, not in a manner befitting a king, he kisses both my cheeks. At a quirk of the king’s eyebrow, Costis dips his head down and also gets a kiss on the cheek.   
“I hear the two of you have already had your ceremony in the valley, that is a pity, I would have offered to host your wedding here,” he said wickedly, and I refrained from rolling my eyes.   
“Thank goodness we are saved from that,” I reply instead, and now the king laughs at me. I remind myself that he is the king, and I probably should not speak to him like that, but my tongue keeps forgetting.   
“I will have to satisfy myself with giving you a belated wedding gift instead,” he says, and looks up at Costis now as he speaks. “I would like to make it clear that you can refuse this gift, or ask for it to be differently located,”   
This does not sound like an easy gift. We both nod.   
“I know you are not quite at ease here, Kamet,” he said, “which is a pity for me, as I would like to keep you here, however - I have an idea of where you could go - if you would like.”  
We wait.   
The king said, “There is a temple in Roa in Magyar where they have discovered a collection of scrolls in their treasury, quite rare ones. They wish to have them recopied. I wonder if you would be willing to take up the task. The Duke of Ferria is already sending scholars, so you would not be the only foreigner in town, and your arrival would be unremarkable. They are some very lovely houses there, I thought I could buy one for you.” 

This was not just a wedding gift. “And?” 

“The temple is on the heights, of course. It overlooks the Ellid Sea. With a good glass, you could see any ships sailing toward Attolia. We have lost many of our observers of late, and we need people we can trust outside our borders. There would be danger. I can’t tell you how much or how little. Perhaps you would be safer in Mūr. Perhaps safer in Roa as an unremarkable temple worker.” 

I start to tell him that it is the least I can, but he cuts me off before I can get the words out. Tells me very firmly that I owe him nothing, and in fact it is he who is in debt to me, that if I do this for him, even though he is still offering to buy us a house and land, he will still be indebted to me. I look to Costis. 

“I suppose there is also something in Roa you would like me to do?” Costis says easily, and the king smiles, almost rueful, and nods. 

 

We have a week more in Attolia before we leave for Roa. I spend a lot of time with my new friends, specifically Relius, and also being introduced to more of Costis’ friends, Aris especially.   
It was a whole new experience moving through the Attolian court as a married man. I was no longer just Kamet King-namer (although that was barely anything to preface with ‘just’), I was Kamet King-namer who was married to the king’s right hand. Most people knew Costis, or at the very least, knew of him, although when I pointed this out he had seemed entirely befuddled by it. I think somehow, inexplicably, in his own mind he is still an unremarkable guard, who by only a stroke of luck is privy to the king’s attention. I endeavour to make sure he never thinks himself unremarkable to me. 

 

I think my favourite thing about our house in Roa, was that Costis and I got to entirely furnish it. I have spent so much of my life picking out and arranging things for my master, catering always to his tastes, and the fashions of the city, and then living amongst it knowing that none of it was mine, and now. Now I got to pick things that appealed to me, appealed to Costis, place them wherever I wanted. Maybe this sounds a little silly, but having the freedom to decorate my surroundings how I wanted was somehow extremely freeing.

The king was right that our arrival was unremarkable, there were a lot of other people moving in around Roa as we were setting our house up, and Roa was all a bustle of moving furniture for at least a fortnight after we arrived.

My least favourite thing about the entire process of settling in was we were both too exhausted to spend much time with each other for our first month there. First we had been busy setting our house up, then while we were still finalising certain things, like the garden and another desk for me, we had started at our various jobs. Me up at the temple, and Costis all over Roa, making maps and pretending to be unobtrusively collecting all manners of exciting vegetation and animal life which he would bring back into our house. We would see each other in the mornings before we left for the day, and then in the evenings once we were home, and I missed him even though we were living in the same house. 

Thankfully, after the initial stress of moving and settling in, we fell into our routines very easily, and our workload lightened enough that we got to see each other more, and more frequently.

I arrived home one evening after an extremely productive day at the temple, my spirits high, to Costis already cooking dinner. The smell of roasting meat met me at our doorway, and carried me through to our kitchen, where I wrapped my arms around Costis waist, and buried my face in the shirt on his back.   
“You’re home,” he observed, taking my left hand from his stomach and lifting it to his mouth to kiss my knuckles.   
“And my husband is cooking dinner,” I replied, pressed a kiss in between his shoulder blades.   
He turns in my arms, and reaches down to kiss me gently in greeting. He is always so pleased when I call him my husband, I understand, my stomach is a pool of warmth whenever he calls me his husband.   
“You’re home early,” I say, placing my hands on his chest and leaning back in his arms so I can look up at him, “I was going to cook for you tonight.”   
“I finished earlier than I had expected,” he replied, “and I passed the butcher on the way home and thought to treat you.” 

Gods help me, I love him so much. Not particularly because of any one thing he had just said, or even done, but the whole combination of them. The way he is looking at me still with his eyes soft, the way he kisses my ring hand. I had spent a year, traveling across deserts and mountains with him, slowly and quite grumpily, falling in love with him, and then within the space of a few months had married and moved in with him. It was nearly unbelievable. I am sure some people would like to point out that we have only been married a short time, that there is still time for us to become bitter spouses and grow apart, but I do not believe that that will be our fate. He is mine, and I am his, and we have both chosen each other. 

We ate his roast with wine and fresh greens and followed it down with figs in honey and kisses that were as sweet as the dessert. I wished I could have gone, in a dream maybe, back to my younger self, my lost child self, my terrified teenager self, my resigned self, tell them, me, that there will be a time with no constant fear. 

I wash our dishes after we have eaten, Costis is out in the outdoor shed, doing something or other that involves too much dirt. As I wash our dishes, well made with blue flowers inked around the sides, in our kitchen, in our house, full of our things, I acknowledge that my younger self would probably not have believed such a thing could be true.   
I wait until Costis comes back inside, wait until he has washed his hands clean, then I crowd him up against the nearest wall and kiss him.   
“Thank you,” I say, “for dinner,”   
“Anything for my husband,” he replies, kisses me back.   
“Your husband is a very lucky man,” I say, aware that I am being a sap.  
“Yes he is,” Costis grins, then, “not quite as lucky as I am though.”   
He does that a lot.   
“You’re right,’ I say, “you are about to get a bit luckier,”   
He looks confused.   
“Oh?”  
I relent, “Well, it’s not luck, I suppose. More like patience having its own reward.”   
He still looks confused.   
“I love you,” I say, “you know this. You also know how long it has taken me to feel comfortable in my own emotions.”   
He looks less confused now, brushes his hand softly down the side of my face.   
“I am very comfortable,” I say, “I have no qualms left about this.”   
“Oh,” he says.   
“I don’t want to hold back anymore, I am not worried I will overwhelm myself.” 

Our bed is one of my favourite purchases. It is low, and long and wide. Long enough that Costis doesn’t risk having his feet stick off the end, especially because it has both a head and footboard. Costis had found a beautiful quilt at one of the Roan markets, it was a deep, expensive blue, the embroidery was scattered constellations, and it was like sleeping inside a story. 

I pushed Costis down onto this quilt, his shirt already off, somewhere in the hallway, and then before climbing on after him, undid his breeches and divested him of those as well. He reaches for me, and I avoid his hands easily by stepping back as I pull my own tunic off over my head, then step out of my trousers. He sits up as I step back towards him, and takes me by the hips to pull me closer. I straddle his lap, sling my arms around his neck, kiss him very, very gently. 

“If you change your mind -” he mumbles into my mouth, “that is fine too, you know that, yes?”  
I nod, keep kissing him, know he is waiting for a more substantial answer even while he is kissing me back, so I pull away enough to say, “I will let you know, my darling.” 

This is enough for him. He wraps his arms around me and turns us both until my back is pressed against our mattress and his leg is pressed in between my thighs, and his mouth is pressed against my throat. It is not that we haven’t been in similar positions before, we had refrained from taking it much further, but that did not mean we slept next to each other like sardines. This is different though, we both know the intention behind this. In the past it was good, yes, of course it was good, but now it’s heightened, the anticipation making it all the sweeter, and I am gasping already. I drag my hands down his back, up his sides again and he shivers, opens his mouth on my skin.   
We are nothing but the breath in our lungs, the blood in our veins, and the slide of skin against skin. He takes my hand in his, our rings clinking together as he laces our fingers and presses his mouth to mine.   
We have talked about this before, usually late at night, our heads together on one pillow, we both know what we want, what we are comfortable with, what we are experienced with. I move our joined hands down my body to my hips, then down between my legs and untangle our fingers so he can take me in hand unhindered. He is shifting up on his knees, creating enough gap between our bodies that he can move, and I move my legs in between his to plant my feet firmly on the mattress before throwing my head back and breathing with the strokes.   
When he presses into me, just one finger at first, I am so tightly strung with pleasure that I let out a moan at just that, and then laugh.   
“Thank the gods,’ I say, “that we did not do this on our wedding night with your cousins all listening.”   
Costis laughs as well, ducks down more to kiss me softly, “That would have been embarrassing,” he agrees, then, “I don’t think I would have cared.”   
I was going to reply to that, but he crooks his finger inside me and I only cry out again, my thigh muscles tensing, my hands shifting to grip his shoulder tightly.   
I want to be kissing him, but I also want to be throwing my head back and gasping, and I also want to be biting down on his neck. Costis solves my dilemma by kissing me, mouth hot and open and demanding against mine. I feel as if I am made of water, we are slick with sweat and spit and fluid against each other, in rhythm. I can already feel pleasure rolling over me in waves, and when he shifts onto his knees, pulls my legs up, pushes into me, I change my mind.   
I feel as if I am made of fire, my heart is a burning coal of desire, sending sparks down my veins into my lips, into my fingers, into my stomach, my cock. He moves in me and around me, his hand still on my cock, hot and firm and unrelenting.   
He is speaking, mostly just my name, but I am entirely undone with the heat of it all to form words, until eventually I cannot hold it any longer and I spill out all my words along with my orgasm - mostly incomprehensible but I know he hears the ‘I love you’.   
He follows me after only a few more strokes, and when he pulls out, I reach out to him to tug him back down beside me, hold his sweaty face close to mine and kiss him again. Less frantically but still with heat. 

After we are cleaned up, we climb under the quilt, press ourselves together again. He is cupping my head, stroking my hair. The last of the sunset is straining in through our curtains, dripping pink light onto the floor and across our bed, onto Costis’ skin. He tugs my earlobe.   
“So,” he says, “next on the list is children, yes?”   
I elbow him.


End file.
